


I Reincarnated As A Minor Villainess and I Survived Past My Death Scene

by Thai_Tea_Addict



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Isekai, Duo wishes it would spit in the eyes of gender roles, F/F, F/M, M/M, POV First Person, Truck-kun strikes again, Unreliable Narrator, more specifically isekai shoujou that follows someone falling into the role of the villainess, specifically isekai shoujou, the fantasy world spits in the eyes of gendered language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 127,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24470677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thai_Tea_Addict/pseuds/Thai_Tea_Addict
Summary: After being killed in a traffic accident, Duo wakes up in a medieval fantasy novel - except he's woken up as one of the novel's minor villains who was supposed to have died in a main character's backstory. Intent on righting the wrongs of his novel counterpart, Duo sets out to change his fate and just maybe improve the relationship between himself and his estranged husband, Duke Heero Yuy.(Duo is isekai'd into the body of a novel's villainess character and runs with it.)
Relationships: Chang Wufei/Long Meilan, Dorothy Catalonia/Relena Peacecraft, Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy, Relena/Heero except only Duo ships it, Trowa Barton/Quatre Raberba Winner
Comments: 684
Kudos: 976
Collections: Favorites to read again, Reincarnation and Transmigration





	1. Arc I, Chapter 1

**A/N** : I fell into the blackhole of _isekai shoujou._

* * *

**Chapter 1**

* * *

Large, arched windows with translucent panes gave access to the view of the expansive courtyard below. The garden area held colorful varieties of flora, most in bloom this early in the spring, with the paved walkways curving in a pleasantly aesthetic way for those who traversed it. Birds had already returned from their winter trek so the cold silence of a past winter had now been traded in for birdsong, and the weather was sunny and lightly breezy.

It was beautiful – but I didn’t need this stark sense of realism.

“Your Grace, would you prefer to get dressed or have breakfast first?”

My shoulders tensed, even as I turned and hopefully managed a bright smile. The last time I’d grimaced, it’d sent everyone in the room into a panic, and I wasn’t looking to revisit the experience at eight in the morning. “Mornin’—uh, I mean, good morning, Hilde!”

Hilde’s respondent smile was small and pleasant and fake. Thankfully, she ignored my slip-up, directing the two anxious maids behind her to begin their turndown service. I watched in silence as they took off the sheets I’d already tucked in – they were such perfectionists, I swear to god.

It’s been a week since I first woke up in this place. I say “wake up” but to be perfectly honest, it feels more like I’m in a creepily realistic dream. What I can remember before waking up in Hilde’s Palace of Silent Persecution is running late to work because of heavy rain; the rainfall that descended on NYC’s streets was damn near blinding, and already congested streets fell to bumper-to-bumper traffic. Given that I primarily used public transport, the only thing I had to worry about was not getting hit when I crossed the street.

And then I’m pretty sure I got hit.

Screeching tires and full-body pain were my last conscious thoughts. The next time I’d opened my eyes, I was staring up at the canopy of a King-sized bed with about half the estate at my bedside. The doctor – an attractive woman with her hair pulled into two twists on either side of her face – had introduced herself as Doctor Sally Po and diagnosed me with amnesia after “suffering from horrible trauma.”

The horrible trauma she mentioned was not the traffic accident, not that that would have explained why I was waking up here of all places. Apparently, I had been in the residence’s personal greenhouse when it somehow caught fire, and though I suffered only from light burns and some scrapes and bruises, I’d managed to crawl out to safety before fainting. I’d been found by the staff shortly after and taken to this room to be treated by the doctor.

I didn’t know much about amnesia, but I was pretty damn sure it didn’t work like this. I may not have memories of _this_ place, but I sure as hell did have memories – and last I checked, I was an odd-jobs guy just trying to get by in NYC. I lived in a studio apartment in the Bronx, had less than $500 in my bank account, and was more often called a slur than I was called “Your Grace.”

Doctor Po said I was experiencing confusion and amnesia, and gave strict instructions to the staff to monitor me closely in the following days. She’d said it was a temporary condition and should clear up soon, and was quick to reassure me that I would be fine.

We’re currently entering our second week of this, and so far, the only thing I could remember is that I’d left the air conditioner on back home. My electricity bill was gonna be a nightmare.

“Your Grace?”

Oh, right – Hilde asked me a question. “B-Breakfast first, please,” I quickly answered. The maid carrying out the bedsheets ran into the doorframe in shock, stammered out an apology, and then tripped over herself just as she’d made it out the door.

I stared after her. Hilde stared at me. The remaining maid had frozen, clearly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I have no fucking clue what they’re waiting for.

“Are you okay?” I asked, rising from the window seat I had been perched on. The maid in the hall squeaked, jumping to her feet and grabbing the sheets from the floor before she swiveled around to face me with wide, terrified eyes.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Your Grace!”

“No, it’s coo—fine, but are you okay?”

“I’m so sorry!”

I stared at her helplessly. This was not the first time one of the employees acted like this, and I doubt it would be the last, but I still have no idea how to handle it. They apologized for everything, even things that weren’t their fault, and their fear of me was plain as day. I just didn’t know why.

“Melissa, that’s enough now. Go wash the sheets,” Hilde interrupted gently. The maid squeaked out a nervous agreement, bowing to me again before dashing away.

I looked back at Hilde, who was now ordering the other maid to bring my breakfast in. Hilde Schbeiker had been by my side ever since I’d woken up, and unlike the others, she didn’t show any fear of me. At Doctor Po’s diagnosis of my condition, she’d introduced herself as my personal attendant, and had been readily available to answer all of my questions.

Of course, her answers didn’t make any goddamn sense.

_“Where am I?”_

_“In the estate of Duke Yuy, Your Grace.”_

_“Where’s that?”_

_“In the Yuy duchy of the Sanc Kingdom, Your Grace.”_

_“Is this in New York?”_

_“I don’t know what that is, Your Grace.”_

_“Can you stop calling me ‘your grace’?”_

_“No, Your Grace.”_

What I’d got from my impromptu Q&A session with Hilde was that I apparently lived in the Yuy estate, somewhere in a country known as the Sanc Kingdom. There was no modern technology here either – so no phones, no TVs, no cars or skyscrapers or even lightbulbs. It was like waking up in the middle ages, which made me kind of grateful that if this was a dream, at least I woke up as someone with money. It’d have sucked even harder to wake up as a starving peasant here too.

My breakfast was rolled in on a pretty silver cart. For breakfast, the fare was generally the same with only minor changes: a roll of bread, butter and jam, some thinly-sliced meat, a bowl of either hot cereal or soup, and some fresh fruit. They usually gave me beer or tea to wash the food down, although only the latter was palatable. I never thought I’d hate the taste of beer but apparently this dream wanted me to sink down to some truly incredible new depths.

I ate alone. Whether it was breakfast in my room, lunch in the garden, or dinner at the table – it was only me, myself, and I eating. I’d tried to invite the others to eat with me, but the general reaction was absolute terror, with the exception of Hilde (who politely informed me that that wasn’t how things were done here) and Howard the Butler (who also politely informed me that wasn’t how things were done, and then vanished back into the depths of the study).

For the first few days, I was pretty much inconsolable. After Doctor Po had dismissed my bewilderment as a temporary case of hysteria, I’d stayed curled up on the bed, occasionally grilling Hilde with questions whenever she took a break from trying to get me to act like whoever she thought I was. Hilde’s bedside manner was great; it was like being personally served by a waitress who absolutely hated your guts but was too used to the Customer Service Lifestyle to show it. I almost wanted to tip her.

Whoever she thought I was, at least the name was close enough: Duo Maxwell-Yuy. I don’t know where the ‘Yuy’ came from, and initially thought it was something added by the owner of the estate given that it belonged to Duke Yuy. That was when Hilde dropped the bombshell on me: I was the owner of the estate.

Or, to be more accurate, I was the _other_ owner of the estate – as I was _married_ to Duke Yuy.

I almost thought I’d woken up in Vegas. (Hilde does not know what “Las Vegas” is either.) I woke up in pain, confused, and married; definitely the perfect trifecta of all shotgun weddings. I’d have killed to see some neon lights out the window, but the best I got was gothic lanterns.

After a few days of not waking up back in NYC, I resigned myself to at least embracing the dream for now. I couldn’t conjure up anything at will, and even went so far as to ask Hilde if magic was real because at least that would make the dream more fun. As it turned out, magic is not real here either – although Hilde’s expression as she told me this was great. I could practically see her internally weighing the pros and cons of just taking me outside and putting me down.

“Hilde, I’m married, right?” I asked between bites of soft bread. At least the bread was good here, I could almost forgive them for serving me pickled meat every day.

Hilde, as her usual, was the only one present in the room as I ate. I couldn’t tell if she’d chased the others out because she knew having people watch me eat made me uncomfortable, or if she didn’t want me terrorizing her coworkers with my mere presence. Either way, it saved me the trouble of trying not to look too vicious as I tried to make my meal more palatable.

“Yes, to Duke Yuy, Your Grace,” Hilde replied promptly. _You idiot,_ was likely tacked on at the end in her mind.

Honestly, this had been one of the topics I’d been avoiding. I’d had more than enough to swallow without adding a surprise spouse to the mix, but at this point, I had to know everything I could about myself (or the me they thought I was) to figure out what the hell had happened.

Duke Yuy. Not _Duchess_ , but _Duke_ – which meant surprise spouse was male.

Er, maybe.

“Can you tell me about Duke Yuy?”

Hilde’s expression wavered, almost like she was surprised by the request. It was kind of like a waitress receiving a large tip from a customer who complained about their meal the entire time they were there.

“Duke Heero Yuy is a noble and virtuous man,” Hilde began. Unlike her previous answers to my questions, she seemed to be excited to share this – I guess she really liked this Duke Yuy guy. Her eyes actually looked alive, almost like a waitress who was just told to go home early with no cut to their pay. “He’s the youngest Duke to the Yuy duchy but deserves his seat of power. He’s led numerous successful campaigns against the Romefeller Empire and the Kingdom of Oz, and is well-loved by both the people of his fief and the Capital.”

_You sound like a goddamn character introduction._

“Sounds like an impressive guy,” I said, trying my hardest to look impressed. Given how little I knew about this place, the only thing I’d really gleamed from that was that he was a popular military figure. I don’t even know what a duchy is, goddammit – we didn’t have peerage titles in the States!

Hilde’s expression tensed. It was the kind of look a waitress got when they received a sarcastic _“thanks”_ from a rude customer.

“No, really, he sounds awesome!” I tried again. Now her expression looked rather constipated. “I just- I don’t really remember him either, you know? But I married him, right… I just want to know what kind of man I married.”

Hilde eyed me suspiciously for a moment before she gave a sharp nod in understanding. It was good to know that whatever crime she was personally persecuting me for, at least it didn’t interfere with her love of explaining my own spouse to me.

“His Grace Duke Yuy is very kind,” she said. “His utmost concern is for his people, and he always tries his best to do right by them. He treats his servants kindly and patiently,” _Unlike you_ , was definitely an underlying message there. “He leads the largest militia of the Sanc Kingdom and is renowned for his strength on the battlefield.”

I pushed around the pickled meat on my plate with the teeth of my fork. Now that she kept going on about Duke Yuy, I did get the sense that this sounded familiar. Not in the “you guys have been mentioning him to me for the past week” kind of familiarity, but more like I’d heard of him while I was still guzzling coffee and energy drinks to study for my Mechanical Engineering midterm exam.

Last I checked though, there was no Sanc Kingdom on the map. I had a pretty damn good memory too, so it wasn’t like I wouldn’t have recognized the name of a foreign country.

“So, uh, where is my husband?” I asked. I still didn’t really want to meet the guy and was more than thankful he had given me space after waking up here, but I was curious.

Hilde’s eyes turned stormy. “His Grace left last autumn on an expedition across the barbarian territories in the south. He’s not expected to return until next spring,” she answered curtly, as if I’d been the one to personally send him there. Damn, did I touch a raw nerve?

But at least I knew why I was eating meals by myself. Can’t believe I got married and my husband went away to war – what kind of period drama was this?

I blinked down at myself. Actually, come to think of it, why was I left behind here? And why was this place just really cool with gay relationships as well? Well, it is _my_ dream, so I guess that almost made sense – but everything else was so realistic, I thought for sure some internalized homophobia would be here too.

“Wait, why didn’t I go with him?” I asked, turning wide, innocent eyes on Hilde and trying to convey that I absolutely did not pick up on her unspoken disdain.

Hilde stared back at me, honestly dumbfound.

I mirrored the look, with equal sincerity.

“Because you are…the Duchess,” Hilde finally managed out.

“I’m the WHAT?”

“The Duchess Duo Maxwell-Yuy, married to Duke Heero Yuy,” Hilde answered, as if trying to hammer this matter-of-fact info into my brain.

“But I’m a MAN. How can I be the Duchess?!” I’d checked myself in those brief moments I’d been left alone in the beginning, but every part was where I’d left it. Granted, I was thinner (almost delicate) compared to what I remembered, but I had all my bits!

Hilde stared at me like I was crazy, which felt massively unfair because I’d definitely asked and said crazier things since I got here. “A duchess can be male or female,” she said. “And as you are a dandy, you made a suitable duchess for—”

“I’m a WHAT?” Did she just call me a _dandy_? Is this the 1800s?!

_Oh wait, it might be—_

“A dandy,” Hilde repeated, her usual veneer of professionalism finally giving way to the same bemusement I’d been feeling all along. “A male raised with the expectation to wed a male noble, you are part of the peerage and are expected to uphold the etiquette and traditions of the court.”

 _Professional bottom with a side of snob,_ I mentally translated.

So I got gay married and my husband went away to war, leaving me alone with a mansion full of people scared of me and Hilde the Hater. And Howard.

“I think I’m done with breakfast,” I croaked out, shaken to the core.

I was whisked away to get changed – this involved at least three maids and took around an hour, as they had to do up my hair and make sure I was the prettiest dandy Duchess to ever grace the halls of the manor for a husband I’d never seen.

I’d slowly acclimated to the fashion here, which seemed to have roots in medieval Europe and the Middle East. What I had assumed to be male fashion was most likely to actually be “dandy male” fashion: the top was a blend of a Victorian-era dress, tunic, and tailcoat all in one, and was usually the most vibrantly decorative piece of the ensemble. Then there was a choice between tunic pants or tights, usually solid-colored with only some decorative embroidery at the ends. They topped this eclectic fashion mix with various accessories, and boots or sandals, some with a slight heel.

Today’s selection was a beige top with golden embroidery in the spirit of flowering vines, the sleeves billowing at the ends to drape down to my knees when left at rest. This was matched with navy blue tunic pants, golden embroidery at the ends, and heeled golden boots. My hair was swept up into a bow-like bun at the back of my scalp, save for my bangs which were left to hang freely above my eyes, with a dark blue-and-gold hairpin locking the bun in place. I think they would have added some jewelry as well, but at the balking look in my eyes, Hilde stopped them and I was released.

I was then taken to the garden to “enjoy the fresh air,” which mainly involved me sitting at an outdoor table and being served tea and cakes. I’m actually not that fond of sweet things but they kept trying to give me them, so I end up forcing small bites down my throat and swallowing (equally sweet!) tea.

This was followed by me wandering blindly around the mansion, Hilde at my heels to explain what I stumbled across, usually with a short history lesson about whatever pricy vase or painting I’d dared to glance at. I swear to god, even the ceiling beams had some historical significance. I really had to give it to Hilde, she found such unique methods of torturing me.

I was then taken back to my room to “rest” (read: hide from Hilde so I could bury the knowledge of fresco into the depths of my memories), then lunch (roast chicken, bread, peas and carrots, chocolate trifle), another walk in the garden which included scaring the gardener by simply admiring the begonias for 10 seconds too long, not-stare at the knights who were guarding the entrance to the estate as Hilde not-stared at me, went to dinner (boiled chicken, pickled vegetables, MORE BREAD, something jelly-like with peas and carrots floating in it, MORE CAKES, awful beer), then back to my room to start getting ready for bed.

By the time I was in my pajamas and fighting the queasiness of the beer, Howard was knocking at the door. I motioned Hilde to let him in, trying to look very friendly and alert and not at all like I thought they were trying to poison me via a poor diet.

“Forgive me for bothering you this evening, Your Grace,” Howard said upon his entrance, stopping to wait for my answer.

I stared at him. It was like 7 PM, it was hardly a bad time, and why did everyone always look at me like they expected me to lash out? “It’s fine, what’s up?” I said, one hand over my stomach. I should probably ask Hilde not to give me any more of their beer, it wasn’t settling right.

“What’s…up?” Howard echoed in confusion.

Jesus fucking Christ, wasn’t the dream expecting too much of me? Why did it want proper speech? I would have preferred a sci-fi thriller over this. “Sorry, I mean, what can I do for you?”

This was also the incorrect answer, going by their expressions, but at least it made sense. It was kind of cute to see an old guy like Howard internally rally himself together to continue speaking with me. Made me feel like roadkill that the driver actually felt bad about smooshing.

“If it’s not too much trouble, Your Grace, perhaps you could write a letter to His Grace Duke Yuy? I’ve already written a report about the matter of the greenhouse, but I’m sure he’d like to hear how you’re faring as well,” Howard said.

The matter of the greenhouse was referring to the fire that I’d apparently crawled out of. The knights investigating it had labelled it as an accident, but given that I was the only one who had been present, it was hard to say what truly happened; their best guess was that the lantern I’d brought in during my late-night visit to the greenhouse had fallen and caught some of the plants ablaze, leading to the fire that eventually destroyed the greenhouse completely. Also according to them, it was a “miracle” I’d somehow survived.

I did feel kind of bad about the ruined greenhouse, even if I didn’t remember being anywhere near it. I bet that had some history too, but I wasn’t going to ask Hilde.

“Yeah, sure,” I said. They both stared at me in surprise. What else was I supposed to say – no? “Oh, did you mention anything about, uh, you know… me not remembering…anything?”

Howard looked uneasy. “I did write that you had some temporary conditions, but that Doctor Po stated they should clear up soon.” Which meant he hadn’t explicitly said I had amnesia and had no idea who my husband even was.

That could make letter writing kind of tricky. We were a couple, which meant we had like a Couple Thing, right? That weird connection couples had, like inside jokes and references?

“Guess I’d better make the letter vague,” I muttered.

Hilde, for the first time, looked unsure. “Would you like me to… get some paper and ink?” she asked, trading another glance with Howard. If I knew writing letters to my surprise spouse would get this kind of reaction, I would have done it sooner.

“Yes please,” I said, before looking to Howard. “I’ll give it you to tomorrow morning, okay?”

Howard nodded dumbly. I frowned at him; he was the Butler, and as far as I could tell, that meant he was responsible for most going-ons in the estate. Ever since I’d gotten up and started exploring, Howard had been holed up in the study, “managing the estate and the servants,” as Hilde explained. She’d kept me away from going into the study, likely leery of disturbing Howard as he worked, so I never tried to go inside as he was usually in there from morning to night.

Did he take his meals in there too? “Howard, have you eaten? You look exhausted,” I said. Honestly, I think I looked worse – skinny with bags under my eyes – but Howard was older, so he was probably more prone to getting sick.

Howard blinked at me. “I-I’m fine, Your Grace,” he deferred. “I took dinner in the study. Thank you for your concern.”

Hilde returned with paper and writing utensils, so Howard excused himself with one more Meaningful Look at her before departing. I set myself to work at the grandiose desk in the room, struggling with the quill and ink for over an hour before I finally managed to write decently with it.

I could tell Hilde wanted to read what I wrote but she kept herself still and quiet in the adjacent corner until I’d told her to go to bed. I was up until nearly 11 to finish the letter to my absent husband, and even then, it wasn’t much: just the barest amount of information about the greenhouse incident, vague assurances that I was fine, some lines about how I hoped he was doing okay and that I was worried about him, and finished with a still polite but romantic salutation.

I tried to write it in the most sophisticated way I could manage and hoped that this other version of me was enough of a dandy to get away with not writing any inside jokes or the like in a letter. God, I hope I wasn’t into love poetry; just to be safe, I drew a little picture of one of the flowers I saw in the garden and wrote a little blurb that boiled down to “thinking of you.” It kind of felt like I was making my own Hallmark card.

Leaving the letter open so the ink could dry, I crawled into bed. With any luck, the next time I woke up, it would be to New York asphalt.

* * *

I woke up to Hilde sweeping open the curtains.

I stared at my royal blue canopy despondently. Hilde called out a “good morning” with enough fake cheer to put a waitress with 20+ years of customer service to shame, and a couple maids edged around my bed hesitantly, clearly afraid to ask me to get up so they could do their usual chore.

“Hilde, can you read the letter and make sure it doesn’t sound stupid?” I asked, finally getting up after the freckled maid looked close to tears. Why was I being guilt-tripped into rousing from bed nowadays?

I spied Hilde’s startled expression out of the corner of my eyes but pretended not to notice. “Good morning,” I said to the two maids instead, receiving stuttered responses and downcast eyes. It was amazing they could make me feel like a criminal just for doing morning greetings.

I stood out of the way and stretched a bit, the maids doing their thing with the bedsheets as Hilde looked over the letter. It didn’t take long – it wasn’t a lengthy letter by any means – but the poleaxed expression on Hilde’s face kinda worried me. Did I slip up? How was that possible, given how vague and generic it was, and what did she expect me to write when I couldn’t even recall the guy’s face?

“You drew a camellia, Your Grace?” she managed out. From the way she said it, it was like I’d offered to send him a nude.

I feigned confidence. “Yeah, the ones in the garden are pretty,” I said. The maids had frozen now, also staring at me wide-eyed. Damn, maybe dream-me was a shitty artist. I wasn’t Picasso, but being decent at sketching became a necessary skill in my college major.

“ _Pink_ camellias, Your Grace?” Hilde repeated, as if to be sure.

What exactly am I being tested on here? “That is indeed the color they were,” I replied dryly. “What? Was it too much? Not enough?” Did she want me to send an accurate morphological drawing of the flower? Or write a haiku for it? _I had limits, Hilde!_

Hilde stared at me. I stared at Hilde. The maids stared at the floor. I made a mental note to start learning names because I was starting to feel bad about referring to people as “the maids.”

“Should I rewrite it?” I asked, when Hilde seemed stuck on looking at me.

“No… No, it’s very well-written…” Was dream-me illiterate then?!

Hilde tucked the letter into an envelope but didn’t press a wax seal to close it. I was a little disappointed, but maybe that would come later. “Give this to Mr. Howard, Kaori,” she ordered the maid- the girl with dark brown hair and freckles. Kaori took the letter reverently.

“Oh, maybe we should send some camellias too,” I suggested lightly, not really serious about it.

Kaori paused mid-step, but Hilde’s expression clouded over, clearly not liking something in my tone. “The flowers would wilt before they reach the Duke,” she replied evenly.

I almost took it back, but something about the way she said it just made me more stubborn. It’s probably this trait that got me constantly involved in fights during school. “Can’t we press flowers to preserve them?”

Hilde stared at me. I stared back mulishly. Now that I’d suggested it, there was no way I was taking it back. Besides, sending pressed flowers sounds like something a dandy would do. I was just living up to my dandiness.

“…Yes, that should work,” Hilde finally said hesitantly, as if waiting for me to reveal it was a prank all along. When I didn’t, she instructed Kaori to pass on the message and instructions. After the girl had gone, I decided to get ready first just so that I wouldn’t have to look Hilde in the eye too long.

Freshly dressed and primped, and getting the other maid to tell me her name (“I-It’s C-C-Coralina, Y-Your Grace!”), I used Hilde’s slightly-improved-with-more-than-a-dash-of-suspicion mood to ask that all my meals now only be served with either tea, water, or juice – which she (bemusingly) obliged. I almost asked her to cut back on the sugar, too, but lost the chance when Howard entered the room in a daze holding an envelope.

“M-Mr. Howard, you didn’t knock!” Hilde snapped, horror coloring her face. “How dare you barge into His Grace the Duchess’s room without permission!”

Howard threw himself to the ground in apology. “Forgive me, Your Grace!”

“It’s fine,” I said, massively uncomfortable with someone whose hair was already gray prostrating himself.

“Punish me any way you see fit!”

My eyes must have gone really wide, because Hilde’s mirrored it in equal shock. “No, it’s fine! No punishment necessary, just remember to knock next time! Please get up, Mr. Howard!”

“You can just call this worthless man ‘Howard’, Your Grace,” Howard begged.

_“Please just get up, Howard.”_

Howard picked himself up, straightening his clothes with one hand, the other still holding the envelope and trembling slightly. What kind of mail did he receive to get him all riled up like that?

“Is something wrong, Howard?” I asked, as Hilde and Coralina remained quiet and Howard looked too morose to explain himself. At his startled flinch, I gave a pointed look to the envelope he held.

“I… I received this from Miss Kaori, she said this was the letter you wrote…? And that you wanted to send some pressed pink camellias as well…?”

_That’s what you came rushing in here for?!_

“Uh, yeah. If pressed flowers are too much, you can just send the letter,” I said. Howard glanced from me to Hilde, and then they proceeded to have a completely silent discussion using nothing but their eyes and minute, fleeting facial expressions. I was really impressed, though I hoped I wasn’t the only one feeling awkwardly left out.

“Pressed flowers are no trouble. I’ll have everything sent at once, Your Grace,” Howard finally said, resuming his usual cordiality.

“Oh, wait,” I said, now unsure given everyone’s reaction. Both Hilde and Howard looked at me expectantly; Coralina looked at her shoes. “Um… is there something bad about the camellias? Like, do they have a bad meaning, or something…?”

Howard shook his head, vaguely flabbergasted for a reason I couldn’t identify. I was the one confused here! “No, pink camellias are seen as a good thing. They symbolize love and longing for the recipient.”

Alright, that all sounded good – it was perfectly appropriate for the circumstances. With my husband on the front lines, the pink camellias were a good gift for him to receive. Dandy-approved.

“Oh, that sounds great then. Thank you,” I said, when Howard didn’t go on.

Howard mumbled something that may have been acquiescence before rushing out, as if trying to escape before I changed my mind. I watched him run out, momentarily perplexed, before finishing off the last piece of bread and ending my breakfast.

Aside from everyone’s weird antics this morning, I seemed to have resumed the routine from the previous days. I took another walk in the garden, swallowed down their teatime offerings and then quietly pleaded with Hilde to cut back on the sweets (again, she obliged in bewilderment), and was just beginning my House Lessons via Hilde the Impromptu Tutor when I finally reached what I was told off-handedly was the Yuy family’s personal library.

Hilde said it was a personal library but it was huge, rows upon rows of tomes lining every available inch of wall. Tables and armchairs filled the floorspace between shelves, and a spiral staircase lead up to a second floor filled with even more bookshelves. A fireplace dominated the furthest wall, and heavy burgundy curtains were pulled back from large, arched windows to let in the daylight. Hanging torches and candelabras were scattered strategically around the room, likely placed to afford the greatest amount of light when lit.

I had the sense I finally found something good.

“Hilde, I think I’m gonna spend some time here,” I said. “You can go do whatever you need to do.”

I needed a little break from her constant hovering.

Hilde gave me a plaintive look and didn’t budge. “Your Grace, pardon my asking, but do you remember how the library was organized?”

I stared back at her. Right – there wouldn’t be a catalog, and I wasn’t even sure they knew what the dewey decimal system was.

My silence was answer enough for Hilde. She took up a position by the library doors, her customary posture when she decided she wasn’t going to move for a length of time. “Please ask if you need help finding a book,” she said.

And now she was a librarian. Truly, Hilde was a woman of many skills.

It took the better part of an hour, and I eventually had to ask Hilde for help, but I was able to find some history books to explain where I was and hopefully how I could go back home. There was nothing for the latter, but there was more than enough for the former.

Plenty of the history books went into the origin and victories of the Sanc Kingdom, a place that had apparently existed for hundreds of years. There was also information, not entirely without prejudice, about three other key states: the Romefeller Empire, to Sanc’s west; the Kingdom of Oz, which shared a north-south border with Romefeller; and the Kingdom of Lagrange, to Sanc’s south. They’d been going through multiple periods of war and peace, although currently Sanc and Lagrange had been allied for the last hundred years, opposing the alliance of Romefeller and Oz.

There was no mention of any other country, nor even any other continent. No Europe, no Asia, no other hemisphere; there wasn’t even a mention of Earth.

I attempted to squash down the rising anxiety. The names of the countries themselves were also ringing some bells. They weren’t countries I recognized, at least not in reality, but I did recognize them from _somewhere_.

I tried to look more into Sanc, trying to find anything that would help. It seemed peerage titles (Duke/Duchess, Marquess/Marchioness, etc.) weren’t limited to gender, but royalty titles were, although the Sanc Kingdom was matrilineal so only women could inherit the throne.

_‘Queen Serena Peacecraft crafted the key alliance between the Sanc Kingdom and the Kingdom of Lagrange…’_

Peacecraft… It sounded so familiar! Peacecraft, and Sanc, and Yuy…. All these names I somehow knew but didn’t.

Peacecraft and Yuy; Sanc and Lagrange; Romefeller and Oz. Heero Yuy…. Duke of the Yuy duchy, youngest to inherit the title… renowned for his skill and bravery on the battlefield….

Heero Yuy…

…

… _Heero Yuy was the main love interest._

I stood up abruptly.

“Your Grace?” Hilde asked from her doorway vulture position.

I couldn’t answer her – mind reeling from what I suddenly remembered. Heero Yuy was the _main love interest_ ; a young and dashing Duke that commanded the kingdom’s knights to victory. He was a goddamn _fictional character_ in a fantasy romance novel I’d read in my senior year at college!

“What the FUCK,” I yelped. This could _not_ be happening – this had to be a dream. But why this novel? I hadn’t even liked it all that much; the plot was generic and despite how interesting some of the characters were, it was a short read.

“Your Grace?” Hilde asked again, this time from beside me and with considerably more alarm.

And fuck it, I knew her too. Hilde Schbeiker was a trusted attendant to the Duke’s estate; a quintessential tomboy character with fighting skills who served as the personal attendant/bodyguard to the main character, Heero Yuy’s lover.

“Hilde, who is the current ruler of the Sanc Kingdom?” I choked out.

“That would be Her Royal Majesty, Queen Katrina Peacecraft.”

No, fuck fuck fuck, no no _no._

“And the current heir to the throne?”

“His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Milliardo Peacecraft.”

Milliardo Peacecraft. He was set to inherit the throne, but his fiancée – Lucrezia Noin, daughter of the Noin dukedom – would be arranged to be crowned the next ruler of the kingdom. This wouldn’t happen, of course, but not because of assassination or something sinister – this wouldn’t happen because the true heir would appear.

Relena Peacecraft, the lost Princess, would be found.

Relena Peacecraft – _the main character and Duke Heero Yuy’s destined lover._

I promptly passed out.

* * *

**A/N** : Duo’s actually handling his transmigration into a fantasy-romance novel incredibly well…

_Please be kind and_ **_drop a comment and kudos!_ :)**


	2. Arc I, Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo cleans house.

**A/N** : De-stressing by writing this is actually quite fun.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

* * *

_Endless Waltz_ was a medieval fantasy romance novel starring a lost Princess finding her path to the throne and eventually meeting the love of her life, a seemingly cold but genuinely kind-hearted Duke. The storyline itself never had any compelling twists and turns, and the only thing it really had going for it was its cast of colorful characters.

Heero Yuy was one such character, and he was the main love interest. He initially meets the main character – Relena Peacecraft, currently in hiding as Relena Darlian, the adopted “commoner” daughter of Duke Darlian – in early summer, on the beach in the Darlian province. It had been a fated and heart-stopping first meeting, as Relena had been accosted on the shore by some ruffians and Heero arrived just in time to save her. He took off after dealing with the thugs without ever having told her his name, which in turn makes Relena more curious and aware of his existence.

They meet several times throughout the first half of the novel, until it’s revealed to her that she is the true Princess. Heero, taken with her, tries his best to help her through the trials and tribulations of court life to guarantee her seat on the throne and give the Sanc Kingdom and her allies lifelong peace.

Naturally, I am _not_ Relena Darlian-Peacecraft.

You see, a handful of years prior to the events of Endless Waltz, Heero Yuy had already been married. His spouse had been the youngest child of the Maxwell dukedom, and was so minor a character that they hadn’t even had a first name (or even a gender, I realized in hindsight). Readers only learned, in about half a page of dialogue in one of those Character Reveals Their Tragic Pasts To Their Love Interest conversations, that Heero Yuy’s first spouse had been an _awful person._

The unnamed Maxwell character had been petty and spiteful, feared and hated by all the servants in the Yuy household, who drew constant comparisons between them and the kind and sweet Relena after they’d met her. The Maxwell spouse was abusive to those that they considered inferior; they embezzled the Yuy duchy’s finances for their own personal interests; they had a string of lovers and flaunted their infidelity; they absolutely hated their own husband, Heero Yuy.

You see, Heero Yuy was considered to be “foul blood” to the haughty Maxwell character. Heero was the child of the previous Duke and a commoner woman, whose true identity was never known until the ending of the book. (To the surprise of none of the readers, his mother was actually the beautiful and noble Aoi Clark, daughter of the Clark viscounty.) The Maxwell character, believing that Heero was the child of a commoner mistress, considered him to be inferior and virulently opposed the marriage. However, to guarantee Heero’s right to the Yuy dukedom, longtime allies of Heero’s father Odin Lowe Yuy, Duke Maxwell agreed to have his youngest child married to Heero.

An arranged marriage built on political ties. It wasn’t unusual in this type of story, but the Maxwell character was just such an awful person that they could never accept it. The novel went out of its way to paint Heero as the victim to his first spouse’s abuse, the Maxwell character serving as Heero’s reason for his cold heart at the start of the story. It wasn’t a bad explanation, but it was a tired one, and the unnamed Maxwell character died prior to the main storyline anyway so the readers never get to know much else.

That’s right, they died… There had been an accident while Heero and his trusted knights were out on a two year-long expedition… the unnamed Maxwell had perished in the Yuy estate’s greenhouse, after it had caught fire when they’d knocked over a lit lamp while there at night. Given the unnamed Maxwell’s lax lifestyle, they hadn’t had the strength to escape, and they died from smoke suffocation.

…

…

_Wait._

Was I supposed to have died back then?!

* * *

Waking up to the royal blue canopy was becoming disturbingly routine now. Even then, I didn’t really want to move, pinching the bridge of my nose in the hopes of staving off the incoming headache. Hilde, along with Melissa and Kaori, had just entered the bedroom; unlike before, though, Hilde wasn’t rushing to get me up. I think I gave them another scare after passing out yesterday, even though Doctor Po had come by last night to check me over.

Doctor Sally Po, the trusted medic of Heero and his friends… The one who bandaged up Relena’s wound after a failed assassination attempt…

Oh, there’s the headache now.

“Sorry but… can everyone but Hilde leave the room?” I asked, sitting up in bed.

Kaori and Melissa were quick to flee, shutting the down behind them. The fear was understandable now, if this place really was that novel given physical form: if I was the unnamed Maxwell character, then I’d probably abused the staff horribly. Likely not physically, as Heero Yuy would never had stood for that, but definitely verbally.

God, no wonder Hilde acted like I’d killed her puppy. The other me would have!

“Are you feeling alright, Your Grace? Should I call the doctor?” Hilde asked, voice tentative.

“No, I’m feeling…okay,” I answered, still trying to work through my thoughts. What I didn’t understand, if this world was following the events of the book, is why I was here; Heero’s first spouse is killed in the greenhouse fire. Since I’m Heero’s first spouse, then that means the fire that I seemingly survived was the one that should have killed me.

So why was I here? There was only one greenhouse on the grounds, and it was most assuredly wrecked. Am I supposed to wait for them to rebuild it and then die in it then?

And by _fire_ …

“Your Grace, you’re looking rather pale—”

“I think some of my memories came back.”

Hilde froze. Given the circumstances, the uneasiness on her face was expected. I was probably showing the same thing on my face, if for a completely different reason.

While the statement wasn’t technically true, it’s not like I could tell anyone that this was all a novel. I’d just sound like a lunatic, and I was already walking that fine line as it were; I’m surprised they hadn’t sent me to the hospital given my condition. Maybe such hospitals didn’t exist yet? I really hoped so, because a medieval mental hospital sounds terrifying.

“That’s good, Your Grace,” Hilde started, with the same kind of expression a waitress makes when a customer asks to change their entrée after it’s already been made. “Doctor Po did say the amnesia was temporary. You are clearly on the path to recovery.”

The _‘I wish you were on the path to self-destruction’_ was the underlying message there. I wonder if other-me ever understood any of Hilde’s silent insults, or did he live in a bubble of his own self-importance? And it wasn’t like I could blame Hilde for it, seeing as other-me deserved all this and more.

“Hilde, let me ask you some things, make sure I got this all right in my head…” Hilde nodded in agreement, although I doubt she considered this much of a choice. “I’m the youngest child of Duke Maxwell, right?”

“Yes, Your Grace. You have one older brother, who is heir to the Maxwell dukedom.”

I wonder if he’s a dandy too. “How long have I been married?”

“It will be one year in the first summer month, Your Grace.”

“Am I the Duke’s first spouse?”

“First and last spouse, of course, Your Grace.” Oh right, I think divorce was illegal here…

“…How many affairs have I had?”

“…”

“…”

“…Two, Your Grace.”

“Did I ever hit any of the servants?”

“No, Your Grace.”

“…Did I ever verbally abuse any of the servants?”

“…‘abuse’, Your Grace?”

Hilde’s professionalism was outstanding. Maybe Heero should have married her; she’d be killer in court politics. “I mean, did I ever verbally degrade or insult any of the servants?”

“…You did give us servants some corrective lessons, Your Grace.” Translation _: Yes, you bastard._

That was about all I could take at the moment, reaching for a sofa cushion to mash my face into and scream. Hilde didn’t move, although she was definitely taken-aback by my actions. I pulled away from the cushion to look at her morosely.

“Well damn it all.”

“…Your Grace?”

“I’m a fucking scumbag, Hilde.”

Oh, _nice_ – I don’t think I’ve ever seen bewildered _satisfaction_ on Hilde’s face before.

* * *

From what I remembered from the novel and could confirm with Hilde firsthand, the unnamed Maxwell – now apparently named Duo Maxwell, same as me, _how dare he_ – had so far committed various malicious acts, most of which were designed to hurt Heero Yuy and those who supported him. Thus far, this meant:

  1. _Abused and degraded the servants._
  2. _Cheated on my husband, with at least two different people._
  3. _Abused and degraded my husband._
  4. _Insulted my husband._
  5. _Insulted my husband’s friends and allies._
  6. _(Likely) mismanaged the Yuy estate._
  7. _(Supposedly) embezzled funds from the Yuy duchy._



The last two points were still in the air, mostly because I wasn’t willing to ask Hilde directly. The novel claimed this to have happened, but the novel also said I was supposed to have died over a week ago, and yet here I was walking around and giving Hilde mood whiplash.

“Hilde, I need to see Howard,” I said, having only finished a scant portion of my lunch. Pickled or boiled meat, pickled or boiled vegetables… at this rate, I’m just going to be living off bread and jam.

“He may still be busy, Your Grace,” Hilde replied. Her voice sounded tentative, like she thought she may be overstepping her bounds and didn’t want to be rude, but I could clearly see her mentally pitching me out of the window for daring to bother Howard.

Too bad for them both, that was exactly what I wanted to hear – because I had a pretty good guess on what Howard was working on behind those closed doors.

Mike Howard was the Head Butler of the Yuy estate, and had been serving the Yuy family since Heero’s father was young. Given that the other me was not only unfaithful but also abusive to Howard’s beloved master, and so against the marriage from the start, it was highly likely that I’d been remiss in my duties as the Duchess. With Heero’s absence due to the expedition, those duties were then handled by Howard.

Other-me probably had done _some_ of the work, at least a little bit, if he was embezzling from the duchy. I can’t imagine Howard just letting other-me get away with it; Hilde and Howard were both likely to report any suspicious going-ons to Heero, even while he was abroad. That was also why they felt so comfortable reading my letter to Heero, which should have been considered private.

If I wanted to see the true extent of the damage other-me had wrought, I needed to see the duchy’s finances. To see the duchy’s finances, I needed Howard.

“I still need to see him. Actually, let me go to him – he’s in the study as usual, right?”

I didn’t wait for an answer, striding out of the dining room. Hilde was quick to follow on my heels, and though she hem-hawed with her words, she didn’t reach out to physically stop me. I was really impressed with her self-control – maybe I should suggest she get an award of some kind once Heero returned.

There were startled exclamations from some of the staff still in the hall where the Study was located, but they were quick to quiet at the sight of Hilde – probably thinking if she couldn’t stop me, then no one could. I opened the doors and pretended I didn’t see Hilde’s resigned expression, instead focusing on Howard; he was sitting behind an expansive wooden desk, papers and folders stacked high atop in varying piles.

He looked only marginally surprised to see me, standing at my entrance to bow in greeting. “Your Grace, I apologize for the untidiness,” he said, glancing to Hilde behind me then back to my face.

“No worries, I know you’re busy!” I said with a small grin, trying to be friendly. “I just needed your help with something.”

“Help?” Howard echoed quizzically, having another silent conversation with Hilde over my shoulder. “I was informed that your memories are being slowly recovered… Whatever I can do to help, I would be most glad to do so.”

Howard never gave off the same subtextual line of insults I could read from Hilde, but I bet they were there. His years of experience probably just meant he was better at hiding it. This was likely his version of telling me to hurry up and get out of his hair because someone had actual work to do.

“Great, thanks! I need to see all of the budget statements for the estate for the last year, including servant salaries and income flows, as well as all of the cash flow for the duchy for the last three years,” I said, not letting the plain look of surprise on Howard’s face sway me. “I also need to see my own personal budget statements, along with any list of purchases I’ve made.”

According to Hilde, a Duchess was responsible for the maintenance of the estate, and in the absence of the Duke from the fief, acted as acting lord of the land. Other-me had inherited these duties a year ago once the marriage was officiated, so if I wanted to see what he’d been up to, I would get a better understanding once I saw the documents.

When Howard didn’t move, I prompted him with a soft “Howard?”

“Oh, I apologize, Your Grace! Were you interested in increasing your personal allowance? I can try to see if we can allot you more funds…” That was probably through a slow letter to the Duke, and not something I was interested in. I bet that’s where all the embezzled money went too – straight to my counterpart’s personal allowance.

“No, not that,” I dismissed, still smiling. I didn’t have any trust to go off of, so I was working with oblivious confidence at this point. “I bet I bought more than enough the past year. I want to review the current financial state of this estate, and of the duchy.”

“Your Grace, you’re still recovering…” Hilde tried.

“There’s no need to worry about this yourself just yet, Your Grace,” Howard added. “Until you’ve fully recovered, I can handle—”

This was taking too damn long. I marched to the desk, keeping my bright smile on and resting a comforting hand on Howard’s broad shoulder.

“Howard. _Let me see the documents.”_ Smile, smile!

“…Yes, Your Grace.”

* * *

Reviewing all the documents – there were at least five piles, each pile reaching as high as my waist – took more than a week. I’ve always been good with math, but I still sorely missed a calculator as I did all of the calculations myself. I think by day 3, when I continued poring over the files and was starting to skip at least one meal a day and staying up late, Hilde’s simmering ire started to shift into actual concern. I think she was thinking I was just going to add more money to my personal allowance instead of taking this seriously , and by day 5, had started guilt-tripping me into eating more.

But honestly, seeing the full extent of the damage wreaked by other-me left me feeling unable to eat.

It wasn’t as bad as it could have been; the duchy - thanks to Howard’s passable management and before him, Heero’s much better management – was still in the green, so we weren’t in the midst of a deficit. We also had strong trade with neighboring provinces, such as the Noin, Noventa, and Maxwell domains. The latter was particularly strong, given their relation to other-me.

Thankfully, the funds sent to the Yuy dukedom from the Capital in order to maintain its standing militia could not be touched by other-me. Heero Yuy had exclusive rights to those funds, and in the event of his passing, it fell to his second-in-command and Knight Commander, Trowa Barton.

What other-me _could_ touch were the fief’s funds, which was where the trouble started. There had been small increases over time to other-me’s personal allowance, signed off by Heero; shortly after Heero’s departure last fall, there were several sharp increases to that allowance, mostly signed off by myself, the last one signed off by Howard.

By my best guess, Howard signed off on the last one in a bid to stop other-me from continually increasing it and taking from the fief’s yield. He’d probably tried to bargain, giving me a large lump sum so that I would be contented enough until Heero returned. At best, Heero would reduce the allowance back to a more appropriate size; at worst, I could be accused of embezzlement and punished accordingly.

The rise in other-me’s personal allowance also meant the servants suffered a paycut, and then their pay went static – no increases, no bonuses, and also no holiday. Going from previous servant salary statements, they should have been receiving a salary increase of 2.7% per year, but for the past year, there had been no increases and a pay cut of 3%.

All of that money apparently went into other-me’s shopping. Luxury items, such as clothes and jewels, were listed among the many purchases made; there was a week-long vacation taken to one of the port towns, probably spent with one of my affairs; I’m pretty sure one of the items listed ‘giraffe meat’. I honestly don’t even want to know, and if that _is_ euphemism for something, I don’t want to know what it is either.

By day 9 of my self-assigned homework, I’d completed my review. Hilde had even dared to look relieved for all of 10 seconds as I set aside the last file with a sigh, and then I crushed that look the moment I took up the quill.

Well, just looking over the damage wasn’t enough – it was time to fix it.

“Your Grace, perhaps Howard—”

“It’s fine, Hilde, I can make minor adjustments,” I waved her off without even looking up from the papers.

First things first, I would need to address the problem of the servants’ salaries. Unfortunately, as the increases to my own personal allowance were made not only at their expense, but at the expense of the fief, this wasn’t just a matter of allocating the rest of the duchess allowance to servants’ salaries.

I could slap a band-aid on it for now, via selling all of the excess luxury items other-me had purchased. I’d need to comb through my closet to sell off the more gaudy items, and if there were any art pieces bought after Heero had left, I should probably sell them too.

That money would be added to servant funds, so that I could restore them back to their original pay, and also add the expected annual increase. This would also earn me brownie points with them, hopefully showing them a change in character so that I didn’t have to worry about one of them assassinating me in the middle of night.

I needed at least a little bit of trust for step two.

While selling my personal items would handle some of the financial issues, it didn’t handle all of them; I needed to put back the money other-me had taken for his own gain, and in order to make proper reparations, even increase it.

I needed to find the Yuy fief another source of income.

The Yuy fief was not known for arable land; their main export was soldiers. Most knights and soldiers were trained in the Yuy dukedom, and were then sent to the borders to guard against possible invasions from Romefeller, or deal with skirmishes with the barbarians that dwelled along Sanc and Lagrange’s shared border. There was also a minor trading export of fur and leather goods, which kept them afloat in more peaceful times.

Fortunately, I’d read the novel – which included the narrative exposition on the discovery of a mine in the Yuy fief, near the small town of Aoba-ku. This boosted their trade in iron ore, which prompted other towns within the province to begin looking into finding undiscovered mines as well. The result was a chain of discoveries rich in iron ore deposits and coal, boosting the economy of the province and assuring Heero had the funds needed to back Relena’s claim to the throne.

This all happened near the middle of the book, but I’m sure I can be forgiven for an early launch. The money still goes to Heero’s fief after all, so it’s not like I was doing anything bad!

For this step, I’d need to actually go to the site to ensure its discovery. On a long trip around the fief, I’d need to take guards, and probably also Hilde; so I needed to make sure they trusted me enough not to just kill me and dump my body somewhere along the way.

So first, I needed to restore the little bit of faith that other-me had lost.

“Hilde, call for Kaori, Melissa, and Coralina,” I said. “I need everyone’s opinion on my closet.”

I couldn’t quite place the look on Hilde’s face at those words, but at least it wasn’t murderous.

* * *

I wonder if it’s possible to die from secondhand embarrassment. Or was this considered firsthand? Questions for later.

Purging my closet took nearly three days. The sheer magnitude of clothing required storage that totaled to at least three times the size of my apartment back home, and I couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it. I had the most egregious outfits – eye-burning patterns, ridiculous ornaments (one even had a full goddamn bird sewn onto it!), and for some goddamn reason, a tiger-striped lingerie slip – immediately expunged, followed by outfits that Kaori and the girls stated were now well out of season.

There was a certain level of pomp I needed to keep as the Duchess (according to Hilde’s increasingly exasperated commentary), so I couldn’t just regale myself in simple slacks. While I tended to prefer more somber colors, I still kept brighter outfits that Melissa had convinced me would do well to wear in the spring and summer months.

We couldn’t just hold the garage sale I had envisioned, so Hilde sent off some servants and knights to deal with the excess clothing. Once the closet was finished, I moved onto the accessories – which appeared to give Hilde another heart attack. She was much more talkative this time around though, as I checked the story behind each jewel and necklace that had decorated the skin of other-me.

Most of them had been bought by other-me, so they were deftly added to the sale pile. I’d never really worn accessories back home; occasionally I’d pierce my ears with black studs, but aside from those and the simple chain cross I’d inherited from the church, I wasn’t really an accessory type. Other-me was apparently the antithesis of that, wearing necklaces, bracelets, brooches, rings, hairclips – if it sparkled something fierce and gave off the impression of wealth, he was wearing it. God, didn’t he ever learn taste in moderation?!

In the end, the only things I kept were the wedding presents from the friends and families of the Yuy-Maxwell union, and the few gifts from my husband. I was pleasantly surprised to see that Heero Yuy at least had better taste in finery than other-me: a pearl-laden gold hairpin, a handful of jeweled necklaces, a length of diamond-encrusted silver rope hair ornament (meant to be twined in my hair I think), and two sets of golden hand chains with inlaid garnet and rubies.

The best thing I found was the wedding ring though; I’d always thought the rings worn in the middle ages were big and ugly when I saw pictures of them in school, but the Duchess ring was simple and solid: silver and gold braided together, a single jewel of black diamond at the center. I’d happily slipped it on once Hilde told me what it was, and then pretended I didn’t notice her third heart attack of the day. Maybe I should consider giving her hazard pay…

All told, after all sales were finalized, I’d made quite a hefty sum! It was definitely enough to pay back the funds taken from the servants’ salaries, and Howard even stopped trying to take back the paperwork when I made the necessary adjustments. I added the annual salary increase as well, so once I’d calculated that on top of what they were supposed to have been making while the Duke was absent, their new paychecks were handed out as soon as possible.

“Am I dreaming?” I heard Howard mumble, looking at his own sizeable portion of coins.

I almost wanted to say something snarky but didn’t have the chance because Melissa and the other maids were crowded around me, thanking me profusely. I’d kinda thought they would scurry away as soon as the money was handed to them, thinking my newfound generosity would disappear when I finally realized how much money I was giving out, but maybe they were so starved for positive attention from me that they wanted to bask in it while they could.

I added _[8. Didn’t pay the servants the appropriate amount of money for their service]_ and _[9. Bought way too many dumb things that I did not need]_ to my list later that night.

* * *

**A/N** : Duo this chapter: _Fine, I’ll be the best damn Duchess you’ll ever see!!_

 _Please be kind and_ **_drop a comment and kudos!_ :)**


	3. Arc I, Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero receives a surprising letter.

**A/N** : Heero and the boys make their appearance!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

_Dear Heero…_

* * *

“Your Grace, you have letters from the provincial capital.”

Heero glanced up from his careful study of the latest reports regarding the barbarians’ movements. It wasn’t an urgent matter at the moment, as momentum was on their side, but it was better to be safe than sorry. With any luck, they would have kicked the barbarians back into OZ’s territory and they could return home just after winter.

Motioning for the messenger to come inside, Trowa took the aforementioned letters and thanked the man. After the tent flap closed behind him as the messenger left, the Knight Commander glanced over the envelopes, visible eye widening slightly in surprise.

“Trowa?” Quatre asked his lover in concern. He was bent over the tabletop map with Wufei, discussing battle strategies. They’d recently regained some of the territory Lagrange had lost to the barbarians, but they were planning on taking over a fortified area of food stores soon to replenish their own stock.

“One is from Howard,” Trowa said, moving towards Heero.

Heero nodded, “His monthly report.” It had become a necessity when Heero had taken Wufei and Quatre with him, leaving no buffer between the duchess and the duchy finances.

“The other letter is from the Duchess.”

Heero couldn’t quite smother the disbelieving look in his eyes.

Duo had _never_ sent him a letter. Not when they’d first been engaged, not when he’d left for the Capital, and certainly never when he went to battle. His husband had never regarded him with anything but contempt and made no effort to hide it.

Duo’s disdain did not color cold, though – he made no effort in manipulation or trickery. He let Heero know, flat-out, that he hated everything about him: his illegitimate birth, his commoner blood, his calloused hands, his average height, his scary face… Duo had never so much as embroidered him a handkerchief, a common gift given to spouses.

“You don’t think he ruined the economy, do you?” Wufei scowled.

Heero frowned. “Let me see Howard’s letter first,” he said, taking it from Trowa. It was indeed another monthly report, and though it was more shocking than the previous ones, it was not for the reason Wufei suggested.

“There was an accidental fire in the greenhouse,” Heero summarized aloud. “Duo was caught inside. He didn’t suffer any permanent injuries—”

Trowa and Wufei made matching huffs of disappointment.

“—but he does have some…temporary conditions.”

Quatre blinked. “Temporary conditions? Like what?”

“Howard didn’t say.”

“How vague…” Quatre murmured.

Wufei shot a distrustful glare at the second letter. “He’s probably asking for reparations,” he muttered. “For nearly dying in a fire he started.”

That would be terribly on brand for Duo. Heero scanned the rest of Howard’s letter, but aside from Duo’s near-death experience, it was nothing unusual. Unable to put if off anymore, he opened the second letter.

A dried flower fell out.

Heero stared at it.

“…is that a pressed flower?” Quatre asked in surprise.

Trowa came up to Heero’s side, picking it up delicately. “A pink camellia,” he nodded. “…Are you sure this is from the Duchess?”

Heero opened up the letter. Perhaps Hilde had written it on Duo’s behalf, although that would be unlike her. The dislike between her and Duo was mutual, but Hilde was the only one of the servants aside from Howard who didn’t cow before Heero’s spiteful husband.

_Dearest Husband…_

Heero dropped the letter.

“Your Grace?” Wufei asked in faint alarm.

Heero shook his head numbly, unwilling to explain. Duo had never called him “husband” before – he was so repelled by the fact of their marriage that he tended to fall back on calling him ‘Duke Yuy’ if he couldn’t get away with not calling him directly at all.

Picking up the letter again, Heero’s eyes swept over its contents line by line. The warm, romantic language never stopped; it looked like one of those letters some of the other newlywed soldiers received. Heero hadn’t even known Duo could write like that.

What’s more, there was an actual sketch of a camellia flower at the end. In Duo’s delicate handwriting were the words “Thinking about you” right next to it, so the pressed flowers were definitely intentional.

But why?

“He wrote you a love letter,” Trowa gaped from over his shoulder.

Heero glared back at him. “Why are you reading it too?”

“He wrote him a _what?!”_ Wufei exclaimed.

“Pink camellias mean love and longing,” Quatre added, only making it more confusing.

 _Was this some new kind of joke?_ Heero wondered.

Tucking the letter away and ignoring Trowa and Wufei’s confusion, Heero decided not to think about it. If Duo was just playing a prank on him, he wouldn’t rise to the bait.

* * *

**A/N** : The other boys’ time of regular appearances are coming, please be patient with me

 _Please be kind and_ **_drop a comment and kudos!_ :)**


	4. Arc I, Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo goes to town.

**A/N** : Nice to see I’m not the only one getting sucked into isekai hell 😏

* * *

**Chapter 4**

* * *

I started taking up more duties befitting the Duchess, so it became much easier to ask Hilde and Howard the things that needed answering.

Case in point: “Hey, why am I so weak?”

Howard, dutifully reviewing the latest expense reports, looked up at me with furrowed brows. “What do you mean, Your Grace? Are you feeling unwell…?”

Hilde grabbed the teacup I’d had sitting nearby to stare into the nearly-empty contents suspiciously. “Poison?!” she muttered to herself in outrage.

“No, not that,” I quickly reassured her. The maids were fond of me now, especially after I started increasing the vacation days allotted to them; I didn’t think they’d risk poisoning me and losing their job benefits. “I mean, I don’t seem very physically strong. Didn’t I exercise? I’m so…scrawny.”

Hilde made an aborted chuckle, then pulled on an expression like she hadn’t just laughed at my expense.

“You don’t need to be physically fit enough for fighting or hard labor, Your Grace,” Howard answered instead, because Howard wasn’t mean to poor, scrawny me. “Your health has always been excellent and your body is well-suited to the lifestyle of a duchess.”

Translation: _you’re supposed to be frail and dainty, you pillow princess._

I wasn’t buff but I was strong and quick on my feet, so being the maiden in a romance novel just felt really strange. I used to have abs, okay? Half my teenage years were spent in fistfights!

“Can I get…training…?” I asked unsurely. Maybe the culture was virulently against dandy men building up muscle. Where were my dandy rights?!

Howard looked as if I’d asked for the moon. Maybe physical training wasn’t in the budget for now. “Nevermind, it’s fine,” I laughed off awkwardly. I’ll just exercise by myself for now – who was going to tattle on me? Hilde? She’d probably spend the entire time hoping I’d make a mistake and somehow fatally injure myself.

“Oh, I want to go on a trip into town,” I said, changing topic so Howard didn’t catch wind of my secret plans to fill out. “Can I go alone?”

“No, Your Grace,” Hilde and Howard answered in unison. Ooh, creepy.

“For protection, guards will need to escort you,” Hilde added.

Eyes scanning the latest tax yields from one of the eastern cities of the duchy, I hummed in thought. “Is my face recognizable to the townspeople?” I asked after a moment.

It looked like Howard was catching on to what I was leading to, but luckily Hilde hadn’t yet so she was the one that answered. “You were seen during your wedding parade when you first came to the Yuy estate, but you mostly entertained guests privately on estate grounds and merchants came here directly to sell their wares.”

“So no one will recognize me,” I nodded in satisfaction, starting to smile.

Hilde caught on. “That’s not entirely true—”

“I want to go to the town market,” I decided, steamrolling right over her. It was best for them to accept their fate now. “I’ll go incognito. One guard should be fine.”

“We can have the seamstress and the jeweler come here—”

I blanched. “I’m not getting more clothing!” I’d just gotten my clothes down to a reasonable number, why the hell would I get more?! “I want to see the food market!”

“Are the meals not satisfactory?!” Howard exclaimed.

I shuddered to think what the head cook would think of that comment. The poor man works so hard down in the kitchen, I can only imagine what horrors he’d been put through with other-me as his primary customer. Nevertheless, the problem was I had a 21st-century palate – which was ill-suited to medieval fare. If they kept salting and pickling everything, I was gonna die.

“I want to see what our people are eating,” I deflected. “And seeing what’s available in the market of the duchy capital should give me a good idea of what’s out there.”

They looked touched by the thoughtfulness.

I, on the other hand, desperately hoped there was something out there aside from pickled pig’s feet.

* * *

My first foray into town included four people in total: me, Hilde, and two knights by the name of Asahi and Mikhail. The guards were part of the knights that had remained to guard the Yuy estate, the majority of the force having gone with Heero on his expedition. I think they must have only barely interacted with other-me, having none of the same fear responses (like the household servants) or reflexive abhorrence (Hilde), but knew enough about other-me’s disdain for the Duke to be politely cold.

Trial run for eventual trip to the iron ore mine, BEGIN!

We donned commoner garb for the trip, the guards using cloaks to keep their swords out of sight. I did my own hair this time, relieved to finally have it in the low-hanging braid I preferred; the maids usually had it tucked up, or half-up/half-down in some ornate style that suited their tastes. Kaori kept trying to convince me to add a little bow at the end, but I had the last word – mostly by scampering out of the room as fast as I could.

To my surprise, we weren’t expected to walk to town. Howard had prepared a drab carriage for us to ride in and even apologized for its mundane look. As this was my first ever carriage ride, I hadn’t really been listening, circling around it excitedly and admiring both it and the horses.

The carriage driver, a middle-aged man named Frederick, seemed surprised by my obvious delight. I reigned it in when I noticed his and the guards’ shocked looks, although I was amused to see that both Howard and Hilde just seemed to be resigned. I guess my shock treatment was working after all!

The town market was about a 30-minute ride by carriage from the estate. Held in the town square of the modest city the Yuy home was settled in, dirt roads gave way to pebbled streets that jostled the carriage intensely. It was a good thing I didn’t have motion sickness, otherwise this would have been a very unpleasant ride.

The town market was home to various stalls of goods, people cloying in the streets as they perused at their leisure. It was boisterous and loud, children entertained by passing minstrels who juggled and jumped for their benefit. Livestock being sold were kept held in temporary paddocks, their owners calling out their prices to interested parties. Many of the stalls were food, either fresh produce grown by nearby farms or warm foods meant to be eaten on the spot. Other merchants peddled their more decorative wares, everything from jewelry to finery to delicate art.

It was like a full-scale Renaissance Festival, except there was no clear line between this and the paved streets of modern civilization.

“Hilde, should we eat first?” I asked excitedly, nearly poking my head out of the carriage to gawk at a meat pie stall.

Hilde knocked sharply on the wall of the carriage three times from her seat directly behind the driver, and the carriage pulled to a halt beside a bakery. Asahi was the first out, and after scanning the area for safety, motioned us to follow.

Feeling much like a child being escorted around their first state fair, I led Hilde to the closest food stall. I ordered enough to share and ignored the helpless looks on the knights’ faces when I forced meat pies into their hands, although Hilde’s resigned expression reigned supreme as she took slow bites of the shish-kabob I’d given her.

Meat pies were a favorite; the tender meat was soaked in savory-sweet spices, mashed with potato or soft-boiled carrot to keep the flavor. The shish-kabobs were hit or miss, some of the meat not fresh enough (Hilde had snatched it from me to throw it away) but the roast vegetables and chicken tended to be delicious. There were various places to drink beer and ale – I’d given them a try but I just couldn’t stomach the beer here (to Mikhail’s amusement) and the ale tasted even worse.

Once we’d had our fill – as decided by me, since the others wouldn’t tell me if they were hungry or full if their lives depended on it – we made our way to the farmers market portion. There was no point in buying anything, as it was the local market so our cook at the castle would already have everything available as fresh as it could possibly be. The fare was similar: chicken, pig, and lamb were the primary meat stock, although there were some cows available for either slaughter or dairy. As we weren’t a port town, the only seafood available were the fish caught by the winding river nearby, although we had no access to shellfish so crab and lobster were still a faraway dream for me.

I scrutinized the available vegetables with a critical eye. Tomato, potato, carrot, cabbage, chard, onions, and garlic. ( _Garlic!_ Something that could season the food aside from SALT!) Fruits mostly consisted of lemons, apples, and what looked to be small plums; grains consisted primary of wheat, barley, millet, and rice. RICE! I knew there had to be something other than wheat; it only figured I was being punished via death by bread because of other-me.

“Hilde, do we have rice?” This was starting to remind me of grocery shopping.

Hilde looked at me cautiously. “We do, Your Grace, but you expressed dissatisfaction with it and told the cook to never make it for your meal again.”

Of course I did. Other-me was always out to get me in some unexpected way, that bastard.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I told her. “Do you think if I buy Morris a souvenir, I could bribe him to make a specific meal?”

“As Morris is the cook, you can just tell him what you want him to make and he will do so.”

“I’m gonna buy him something,” I decided, ignoring Hilde’s words.

It took a fair bit of time to comb the market. I’d actually managed to stumble upon someone selling pepper, cinnamon, and cloves, so that was bought immediately; I also added some ginger – an “exotic spice from past the Lagrangian sea” according to the merchant, Asahi and Mikhail looked very curious – along with some rosemary, mint, and thyme.

I thought Mikhail looked very dashing carrying everything that could flavor our meals aside from salt or vinegar.

I did end up buying some things, used either as a bribe (such as wine for the cook) or as a reward (mint for Mikhail, he looked so interested, and a tanned hide for Asahi), although Hilde just about had another heart attack when I offered her the small dagger I’d seen her eyeing in the nearby weapons shop.

Overall, I thought it was a very worthwhile trip. I got to try a little of everything, bought some goodies so I wouldn’t be doomed to salted or pickled meals for the foreseeable future, and took good stock of what was available in town to the people of the duchy. The driver was waiting by the bakery we’d originally stopped at, so I bought him and the knights some meat pies, and then we all spent some time watching a minstrel puppet show as he ate.

I’d thought a medieval puppet show would show some horrifying Brothers Grimm story, or have a core fundamental morale, or even just be a glorified version of some past ruler; what it was instead was a story about a poor boy constantly losing his assorted farm animals on the way to the market, and then they turned up as different merchants trying to urge him to buy malicious wares.

I gotta say, loan shark goose was not what I had been anticipating when I first sat down but here we are.

I don’t think this ever happened in the books. To be fair, I don’t think Relena ever ended up in the Yuy duchy’s town square; there had been a scene where she was traveling incognito throughout the kingdom, but those were limited to village inns. Most of her shopping was done as other-me had done: holed up in the palace or at an estate and having the merchant come to her. I guess only commoners actually explored town markets?

“Have I ever been to the town market before?” I checked with Hilde.

Hilde glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “…No, Your Grace.”

Behind us and keeping watch, Mikhail fiddled with his sprig of mint as Asahi circled the small amphitheater of audience members, idly munching on his mince pie.

“Too bad,” I murmured. “That was a lot of fun.”

* * *

  1. _Did not check up on the people of the duchy even once._



* * *

The medieval financial system was a study in possible embezzlement schemes. For the ruling nobles of Sanc, there was no differentiation between the taxes taken from their citizens and their own budget; instead of separating the funds into different accounts, such as those to be used for the duchy, those to be sent to the Capital, and those to be held by the noble family that reigned over the province – all of it was kept together, indistinguishable.

Aside from the necessary amount taken by the Capital each year, the rest of the currency (a mix of valuables, food, and actual coin) was kept in the safeguard of the ruling class. I could practically smell the Marxist revolution coming for them if the people of the province were suppressed for one irresponsible noble too long.

To the Yuy duchy’s credit, they’ve had a long line of reasonable dukes, and Heero Yuy was no less capable. Even his staff, in addition to having to contend with other-me, were just as excellent, enough so that other-me couldn’t do too much damage to the duchy itself. It was a good thing he’d died early in the books too, I don’t think _Endless Waltz_ could have dealt with a revolt subplot.

The issue was that though this world is the novel, it was also _real_ – meaning I had to deal with the real-life repercussions of co-ruling a province. Among the political maneuvers of court life, the day-to-day accounting of the duchy, and whatever duties befell the Duchess of the Yuy estate, I doubt I’d be able to live in luxury without some cost.

First things first then – ensure the duchy was prospering. A rich duchy meant happy citizens, happy citizens meant no chance to Marie Antoinette me.

“We need to organize the provincial budget,” I stated, one late morning. I had every available document detailing the cash flow of the duchy, along with lists of information regarding our available resources, and pinned up a map on the wall that showed every known town and village within our provincial borders. The setup had been the result of Hilde trying to painstakingly re-teach me the land and history I’d “forgotten,” and I’d scribed most of the information lists myself to review.

Howard has started to look intrigued instead of terrified when I announced my ideas nowadays. It was a nice change from the constipated look he’d sported at the beginning, so I knew I was on the right track with him. Even Hilde had warmed up to me now, keeping her homicidal urges at bay and looking at me the way a student looks at a pop quiz full of true-or-false questions: knowing it could be better but it could also be far worse.

“While the Duke is still away on expedition, you are the acting lord of the province,” Howard said. “Outside of large expenditures or mass slaughter, you are well within your rights to manage.”

Nice to know that if I ever went on a killing spree, I’d have to watch the numbers.

“Do we have an official accountant?” I asked. The project was large enough, and though both Howard and myself were good at crunching the numbers, any additional help would be appreciated.

“Master Winner serves as the advisor for accounting, but he is with Duke Yuy at the moment, as he also serves as master strategist.”

Damn, did Heero take everyone needed to actually work on reforms with him? I guess that would be better than leaving them here with other-me, but now that it was _me_ -me, I wanted Winner!

From what I could remember from the novel, Master Winner was originally from the Kingdom of Lagrange; his family was _nouveau riche_ , meaning they’d amassed enough wealth to be awarded a noble title but weren’t considered true nobility by the snobs already in power. He’d been inspired by Heero on one of his expeditions and swore loyalty to him, joining him as an advisor and friend.

Which was all well and good, but I’d kill to have the strategist here now to help organize the budget! I guess the real question now is: how many accountants did it take to equal one Master Winner?

* * *

The answer was twelve.

  1. _Did not appreciate Master Winner’s accounting skills when I had the chance!_



* * *

**A/N** : Short chapter but the next one will be out very quickly too.

 _Please be kind and **drop a comment and kudos!**_ **:)**


	5. Arc I, Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo goes on a roadtrip and Hilde is traumatized.

**A/N** : Thanks so much for the kudos and comments!!

* * *

**Chapter 5**

* * *

Four months into my new lifestyle of being the Duchess of a land I’d never seen, I could probably recite the entire budget and every available resource without ever having to look at my volumes of notes. Howard and the rest of the household staff had been very impressed by my strides in both trying to be a decent ruler and a decent human being, and I’d even wormed myself into the good graces of the knights tasked with guarding the estate. I feel like Hilde would have been impressed with me too, but she was too busy trying to keep me alive and reign in my more excitable moments – I’d befriended most of the vendors in the town market now and I think she made it her personal assignment to ensure I wouldn’t be killed by bad food.

So I thought this was as good a time as any to enact step two.

“I need to tour the province.”

Howard took a long sip of his morning tea. I made a mental note to “discover” the process of distilling whiskey so he’d have something to soothe his nerves later.

“Why?” Hilde asked, then belatedly tacked on a respectful “Your Grace.”

“What do you mean, why? I’m the Duchess, so shouldn’t I know what the duchy looks like?”

“The Duchess manages the estate, and in times of the Duke’s absence, handles immediate matters in the province,” Howard interjected. Given that most of my budget reforms had been organizational matters that could easily be undone by Heero if he wanted, there hadn’t been any opposition to it, but I guess a provincial tour was pushing the limit.

I changed tracks. “I want to go on holiday then,” I said.

Howard poured himself more tea. Maybe I’ll rethink the discovery of whiskey, he’d clearly just turn into an alcoholic and I didn’t want a drunk butler wandering through the halls.

They obviously knew what I was doing but humored me anyway. “The Yuy family does own some vacation properties in the duchy, which ones were you keen on?” Howard asked.

“Taketoyo, Sawara, and Aoba-ku.” A port city, a farming town, and a mountain town.

“May I suggest places that actually have vacation properties?”

“Yes.”

“…Will you actually consider going to these places instead?”

“No.” I kept smiling.

Howard looked forlornly into his teacup. Hilde looked skyward, then declared she would organize the security detail.

* * *

Taketoyo sat northwest to the capital of the province, its port settled on the open sea. Most naval travelers went east or west depending on destination, selling their wares to the numerous provinces of Sanc via the coast that curved westward, or trading with the more open-minded peoples of the Romefeller Empire under the hostile stares of it ruling class. The port was the richest of the territories within the Yuy domain, prosperous for its seafood and its trade.

Taketoyo was only ever mentioned in the novel, never once seen by the intrepid protagonist Relena. It was just another informed attribute of the Yuy duchy, used to help illustrate the numerous assets Heero held as a possible love interest.

I was more interested in its ships.

Those used by Sanc and the other kingdoms of this bizarre continent were reminiscent of medieval sailing vessels, dependent on sails and rigging to get from point A to point B. It wasn’t a bad form of transportation and it got the job done, but being that I came from a time where I could expect a delivery from a drone within 24 hours, letting the wind and sea decide transport speed seemed a bit too lax.

Good transportation and infrastructure were important elements to any prosperous society. If I wanted to give the citizens of the Yuy province a good life, I’d need to improve their ability to transport their goods and themselves.

It was with this in mind that I came ready with rolls upon rolls of parchment, all scrawled with the detailed structure and intended uses of Sanc’s first ever steam engine.

So, after a few days into our undercover – to Hilde’s vast annoyance and the guards’ amusement – tour of Taketoyo, I asked to meet with some engineers.

“Engineers…” Hilde echoed in bafflement, like I’d asked her to let me interview a polar bear for their opinion on global warming. “It won’t be difficult to meet with them, so long as I tell them your true identity, but if you want something developed – the Duke took the best of them with him on his expedition.”

That didn’t really matter, as I’d already “developed” the technology myself by studying my ass off for the engineering and thermodynamics Master’s degree I held. I just needed some people who could actually understand what my self-published instruction guide meant and implement it. At this point in time, engineering was a branch of development mostly concentrated on the development of weapons, so they weren’t likely to develop steam power for commercial use until much later – which is why I’d decided to give it a kickstart.

“That’s fine, I actually want to run a few ideas by them and see if it looks good,” I said instead, because explaining the ins-and-outs of steam power to Hilde was not in my schedule for the day.

“Ideas?” Hilde tilted her head in confusion.

I smiled at her. “I’m so excited to meet with the engineering experts of our domain!”

Hilde set the appointment and snuck a bottle of wine into her room later that night.

* * *

“This-This is _incredible_ , Your Grace!”

I tried my damnedest to look very humbly surprised, smiling airily at the handful of engineers peering through my steam engine schematics. “I’m so happy to hear that! So it really is feasible?”

“It’s more than just feasible! We could make a working prototype by the end of the next fortnight!” the lead engineer, Sir Markus, gushed excitedly. “These schematics are so detailed, it’s like you’ve already crafted them yourself!”

“You flatter me,” I replied, remembering long and horrifying hours spent in undergraduate study.

_“Sir, this one can be used to siphon out water!”_

_“Why didn’t we ever think to use a cylinder with a piston?”_

_“If it generates enough continuous power, we could use it for more than just pumping the water out of the mines…”_

_“Oh, this one uses two cylinders?! It looks like that would save on fuel costs.”_

I let their excited discussions wash over me and valiantly tried not to look traumatized by how close this was starting to sound like my undergraduate study groups. This ended up with me staring at Hilde, who was gawking at the schematics. I knew for a fact she wouldn’t be able to understand them completely, but I guess the engineers’ babble was enough for her to glean what was going on. She turned that gaping stare on me incredulously.

I immediately turned away.

“So I think we should call it a steam engine,” I informed the lead engineer.

“The _Yuy steam engine!”_ one of the engineers crowed.

What? Oh, right, I was Duo Maxwell- _Yuy_.

“The _Maxwell-Yuy_ steam engine,” another engineer corrected waspishly. “His Grace the Duchess was the one who developed it!”

“’Yuy steam engine’ is fine,” I added, but this contribution went ignored as someone finally made it to the compound engine schematics, starting another round of excited discussion.

I smiled into the air. Perhaps if I looked dopey enough, Hilde might actually buy it.

* * *

Hilde did not buy it.

“Your Grace, pardon my question, but when did you learn engineering?”

Contrary to her polite phrasing, Hilde looked scarred for life. This was likely the result of narrowly avoiding being abducted by the engineers, who very much wanted me to stay longer in Taketoyo and bless them with more schematics.

“Oh, is that not part of my dandy etiquette lessons?” I mused airily.

“It’s not.”

“Wait – so there really _are_ dandy etiquette lessons?!” Had I been acting un-dandy-ish all this time and no one ever thought to stop me?!

Mikhail, one of the knights guarding me, choked down a snort of laughter at my horror.

“You did receive etiquette lessons prior to your marriage to the duke,” Hilde allowed the momentary segue. “We can get you a tutor once we return to the estate.”

Oh god, the studying just never stopped, did it? Maybe I could barter with them, convince them that my contributions to technological development should excuse the un-dandy-like behavior. At Hilde’s darkly contemplative expression, I’d probably have a better bet at bartering with Howard rather than her.

“That doesn’t answer my first question,” Hilde continued, tacking on another belated “Your Grace.”

Nice to see my constant parade of shocking behavior was wearing down her stuffy demeanor. Maybe one day she’d finally vocalize the _“you idiot”_ she’d been keeping in for years.

“Would you believe I’ve always had a hidden interest in mechanics?” I asked, since that at least made more sense than the truth.

“No.”

“It came to me in a dream?”

“…”

“I saw a one-armed peasant woman rotating a spitjack and wondered how to solve the problem if she lost her other arm?”

“……”

“I was once burned by steam and vowed to tame it?”

It was amazing how Hilde could convey _‘shut up’_ with nothing but her eyes.

* * *

Sawara was one of the few farming towns within the province. While all villages, towns, and cities had some level of farming, very few of them within the Yuy duchy had made it their chief export as arable land was scarce. Thus Sawara was one of the few population centers that had enough fertile land to grow a decent amount of crops, and these crops were sent throughout the duchy as both part of their tax paid to the Duke and as a trade item with other towns.

Barley and corn were part of their main staples, which was why I chose them.

There wasn’t much description of the food and beverages of the Sanc Kingdom in the novel; the most descriptions given to foodstuff were reserved for the cakes and desserts that Relena would partake in at tea parties. At the few banquets she had attended only wine had ever been mentioned, and the celebratory feast at the end made no mention of food as Relena had had eyes only for Heero.

Reality was a lot less rose-colored.

The diet in the kingdom, as far as I understood it, was heavy; the Yuy duchy offered a lighter fare, many of its towns relying on poultry, pork, or seafood – but the further inland you got to the Capital, the more red the meat. For nobility, a multiple-course meal was common, so nearly every dinner was followed by a sweet dessert, not including the confections served at teatime in the afternoon. Every meal was washed down with beer or tea, and to make it worse – I couldn’t stomach their beer!

If I was going to be living my life in horrible other-me’s skin, I wanted at least a good drink every now and then.

It was with this in mind I continued my mission of inadvertently scarring Hilde: “I’d like to meet with this town’s brewers.”

“I thought you didn’t like beer,” Hilde replied with another hastily added _“Your Grace”_ at the end.

“I don’t, but I’ve got an idea.”

“Are you going to give them the ‘steam engine’, Your Grace?” my guard, Lyle, asked me excitedly.

I shook my head. The five guards that made up my security detail – Mikhail, Lyle, Asahi, Sayaka, and Berion – had warmed up to me considerably on the trip. Given my good behavior back at the Yuy estate and my “stroke of brilliance” with the schematics, as Mikhail had described it, they must have figured my amnesia completely altered my personality.

“It wouldn’t really help them,” I replied. It’s still far too early for a steam-powered locomotive, which could have been used to transport their goods faster and farther.

“What did you have in mind then, Your Grace?”

I smiled.

I swear to god Hilde shuddered.

* * *

The people of the Yuy duchy were not in poor condition. Though most of the duchy’s retinue came from the maintenance and deployment of their soldiers, it was through clever utilization of the province’s resources and the meticulous management of the Yuy family that ensured it was one of the strongest domains in the kingdom. Had it not been for Heero’s illegitimate birth, he would have been one of the most desired husbands in Sanc.

Honestly, he’d been wasted on other-me. Not just anyone could be a romance novel love interest – I was really looking forward to Heero’s eventual romance with Relena. He’d suit the princess perfectly.

“You gave them the schematics to an improved distiller?!”

Ignoring Hilde’s dumbfounded screech, I wondered if I’d live long enough to actually see my husband. I got the feeling that Hilde would soon murder me just so I’d stop confusing her.

“This one in particular is for distillation process of whiskey,” I told her. I’d already improved the distillers back in the capital, although that was through quietly sneaking the blueprints to the merchants while going around the town market.

I’d hid it from Hilde and the others, since I didn’t want them to ask too many questions back then as it was still too early in my trust exercises for that, but it did feel kind of illegal. Especially when those merchants got back to me, more willing than ever to trade with me. I kept getting offered free gossip too…

“And what hell is ‘whiskey’, Your Grace?!”

Ooh, Hilde, cursing in front of your duchess now? I could see that fraying thread of self-control close to snapping in her mind.

“Different sort of alcoholic beverage. I wanted to try it, and Sawara has the best sort of crops to produce it.”

“Where did you even hear about it?” Hilde continued grilling me. God, I couldn’t even tell where her paranoia was directed at – me or the imaginary people selling me on whiskey.

I wasn’t going to explain to her that I’d come up with it, mentioned it to a few merchants I’d met in the town market so they could look into finding this mysterious beverage for me even though it hadn’t actually been invented yet. However, it did help generate interest in the merchants who went traveling to and fro, so that Sawara could sell its goods to more than me in the future.

“There was a traveling merchant in the town market that mentioned it to me previously,” I explained. “He mentioned the taste was stronger than beer, except that the fermentation process was a bit different since they used sour-mash. It got me curious, so I played with a few ideas and extrapolated a bit, and, uh, came up with a new distiller in the process too.”

“…”

“You know how these things are,” I laughed off, waving my hand dismissively. Perhaps if I played it cool enough, she would think nothing off her duchess casually improving the distillation process and creating a new liquor.

The thread snapped.

* * *

Aoba-ku was our last stop in my not-a-province-inspection trip, and was the smallest and poorest of the three. It claimed the label of “town” only by the skin of its teeth, with enough arable land to sustain its people and pay its provincial taxes. For towns like Aoba-ku, it wasn’t uncommon for second and third-born children to be sent to larger towns to find more work, and the withered look of its vendor stalls was enough of an indication to see that its time was drawing near – they’d be forced to abandon it, perhaps within the next generation or two.

This was the only town we went to where I allowed the town leadership to know my true identity, so we were greeted by the town governor and allowed to reside in his home. I think if Aoba-ku had been mentioned with more detail in the novel and had even been visited by the book’s characters, it was likely the governor would have been a minor villain, an easy enough target to blame for the town’s dwindling state.

However, Governor Rohito was a dutiful man in his late 40s, whose entire focus was on bettering his town and its people. This was a godsend for me, because if I had to battle a corrupt official at this point, I may just have to take the easy route and have him killed.

“You have my apologies that we have so little to offer you, Your Grace,” Governor Rohito said sadly, sat on the other side of the garden table which was stacked with local pastries. I knew I was scrawny, but why did everyone insist on feeding me bread and sweets?

“No apologies necessary, this is lovely,” I said with a small grin. Rohito smiled back at me kindly without a hint of surprise in his face.

Good. That meant he probably never met other-me face-to-face. Anyone who had would look as uneasy as Hilde currently did.

After a pleasant teatime where I pretended to enjoy the butter-heavy pastries presented to me, Rohito gave me the much more dirty rundown of Aoba-ku’s current state. It was very refreshing to speak with someone who didn’t try to sugarcoat the facts with feigned politeness, and I really hoped most bureaucrats in the duchy were like this. It would make working to help the province thrive much easier.

The problems were as I’d expected: not enough growth to sustain its rising population, so young adults were leaving to find work elsewhere. While they were still meeting their quota, it grew harder every year and they weren’t able to expand to other avenues of development. Aoba-ku was expected to be a ghost town within the next 15 to 20 years.

There was also the problem of bandits around the two major routes out of town. Traders and merchants were dissuaded from visiting for fear of them, and recently they’d been making attacks on the townspeople as their usual prey were no longer passing by.

Dinner was thankfully lighter than our conversation topic, and I must have looked euphoric eating the fish entrees because Hilde feverishly told me that she’d made note to add it to the cook’s menu back at the Yuy estate.

The second day was when I’d decided to truly get started. Iron ore wasn’t going to just find itself.

“Let’s go hunting!”

“Duchesses don’t hunt, Your Grace,” Hilde returned, unruffled. I had a feeling those dandy etiquette lessons were going to start the first day I got back.

My understanding of medieval hobbies appropriate for nobility was limited, especially as I was one of the few nobles I actually knew. I was sure there was a hunting scene in the novel too, so I couldn't help but think this was just another way for Hilde to limit my inclination for adventure.

"Wasn't there a Hunt I attended?" I asked.

Hilde glanced at me, surprised. "Well, I do believe you attended the Royal Hunt with your father and brother, prior to your marriage to the duke. You were not part of the actual hunt though, Your Grace," she explained. "As a dandy, you stayed in the camp and received the prize if the hunters were successful."

Oh, so hunting _was_ a thing for nobles, just not for noble _dandies_. Unfortunately, there went my most ready excuse. I’d already narrowed down the possible location of the iron ore mine to the mountains around the town, so I needed to be able to freely explore them in order to “stumble across” the iron deposits.

“I feel like I need to commune with nature,” I tried instead. “After the greenhouse burnt down, I haven’t had much time to just be one with the plants.”

Hilde’s look clearly said _‘is that the best you got?’_

“I’m going on a walk,” I said with finality. “Come on, Mikhail and Lyle, let’s stretch those legs.”

“You must take at least three guards with you, Your Grace.”

“Alright, Asahi can come too—”

“Asahi, Sayaka, and Berion,” Hilde corrected, because we all knew Lyle and Mikhail would only encourage my bad habits.

Hilde really needed a vacation. Maybe if she spent some time alone, she'd be less inclined to thwarting me.

* * *

Randomly discovering an iron ore deposit was a lot harder than I thought it’d be.

I guess I’d hoped novel-luck would have boosted my chances, but it seems fate was more intent on waiting for Relena to come into Heero’s life. However, that would take _years_ , and boosting the Yuy dukedom’s economy enough to not be executed by my husband was something that needed to happen sooner.

A week into my stay at Aoba-ku, and even my guard escort had been revolving shifts in order to follow my daily escapes into nature. Hilde declined to follow me; surprisingly, she seemed averse to spending time hiking. I plotted to use that information in the future if I ever needed to escape her.

“You really like the outdoors, don’t you, Your Grace?” Lyle mused on day 8 of my self-guided mountain hike. The knights had abandoned their heavy armor back on day 3, preferring the more lightweight leather as they followed me around Aoba-ku’s terrain.

I _wish_ I liked the outdoors. I was a city-boy back home, and the body of other-me wasn’t used to anything more strenuous than a walk around the garden. Stubbornness and the desperate desire to live past glimpsing Heero Yuy’s face was the only thing keeping me hiking at this point.

“It’s…important…to get…to know…the land…” I huffed out.

Mikhail’s smile bordered on sadistic. “It sure is, Your Grace!” he agreed brightly. While Mikhail was more lax, he was also prone to teasing which meant his targets were either me or Lyle, and at least Lyle could keep up.

“Hope…you…step in…animal shit…”

Mikhail laughed loudly. “I don’t think a duchess is supposed to curse, Your Grace,” he chortled.

“Lyle…hit him…for me…”

“Of course, Your Grace!”

Ignoring them as they tussled behind me, I scanned the small clearing we’d stopped in. I could only keep at this for so long, and I was starting to run out of excuses to stay in the small town. I’d now nobly settled on getting rid of Aoba-ku’s bandit problem as my last reason for the extension, and though Hilde hadn’t argued it, I could tell I was nearing her internal deadline. I’m pretty sure she only allowed me to take two guards today because she planned to lead the other three to hunt down the bandits on her own.

I could probably stretch this another few days. After that, if I still hadn’t found the iron ore, I would have to go back to the estate and rely on my _‘I heard from a traveling merchant…’_ gossip strategy, and plant the idea of an iron mine existing in the area. At the very least, others looking to cash in would start scouring the mountain range for it. If novel-logic won out, it would be someone from Aoba-ku so that the town could be revitalized.

It was with this thought in mind that I tripped on my next step and narrowly missed the arrow aimed for my head.

_“Your Grace!”_

_“Your Grace-!”_

Having landed on my hands and knees to catch my fall, I scrambled back up at the sight of the arrow lodged in the tree trunk a few seconds too late – the bandits were already upon us. Both Lyle and Mikhail had drawn their swords, but they were outnumbered 2 to 1 and their prerogative was protecting me.

Me - the guy currently being held hostage by what I could only assume was the bandit leader.

“Surprised ol’ Ikkei missed ya, but sure am glad he did,” was leered into my ear. “Would’ve been disappointing to lose such a pretty little thing.”

“How dare you even lay a hand on him!” Lyle cried out, trying to speak up in defense of my virtue or something. “Get your scum hands off of him!”

When has that line ever worked?!

Is this the price of having a non-corrupt mayor – shitty bandits? I guess someone had to play the minor villain around here, but I really didn’t want to have first-hand experience with it. No wonder Hilde and Howard never let me out of the mansion.

Being held at knifepoint wasn’t as frightening as it should have been, but this was mostly due to my colorful life back home. Spending most of my formative years as a street kid, and then getting into as many fights as I could stand before I sorted myself out meant that I could keep my wits in the face of someone threatening my life.

Not to mention I wasn’t even alone now. Both Mikhail and Lyle were knights of the Yuy dukedom, and they’d been specifically chosen by the astute Hilde to guard the duchess of the domain. By virtue of their very training and experience, they held themselves differently, and their skill was evident in the careful control of their movements, keeping everyone in sight without faltering.

This was probably why the bandits were starting to look a bit uneasy – no one was behaving like they should have been. It was obvious we weren’t locals, but the steely control of Mikhail and Lyle painted them as more than just guards for a wealthy passing merchant.

“Don’t get any funny ideas!” the bandit leader sneered. His breath was rank and I couldn’t help but gag a little. “One wrong move and I can’t promise the dandy gets to keep his pretty face!”

Damn, did I just have a sign on me that said ‘dandy’?!

Wait, no, I had to focus on the issue at hand. What would a helpless dandy say? “Oh no…please don’t hurt me…” I begged, valiantly not choking on the words as they fell awkwardly from my mouth.

Mikhail’s mouth twitched in what I recognized as him choking back his laughter. _That bastard!_ Let’s see what he did once _he_ was held hostage! I was trying my best to be the damsel in distress here!

“You bitch, are you mocking us?!” the bandit leader growled, brandishing his knife like he was afraid I’d somehow overlooked it.

“No, no, I’m definitely in distress!” I replied, irritated he wasn’t recognizing all my hard work of acting fearful. “Sorry, it’s just the first time I’ve ever been taken hostage, I’ll try to get it right!”

“DO NOT try to get it right, Your Grace!” Lyle interjected. “We’re not letting this happen again!”

 _Damn it, Lyle!_ I wouldn’t get this chance often since Relena would be taking over the role soon enough! Let me have my moment!

“Life is full of many surprises,” I said to my knight sagely. “We must accept them as they come.”

Lyle was not appeased, and neither was Mikhail. “Please don’t get used to being held hostage, Your Grace.”

Wow, was this Pick On Duo’s Aspirations Day?

“Don’t fucking ignore us!” the bandits screeched in outrage.

Bandit Leader had reached his toleration limit, knife to my throat stinging in warning as he jerked me back into his chest by the twisted arm he held behind my back. A body is conditioned to react, so even though my mind was telling me what I could do to break free with years’ worth of streetfighting experience, my duchess-conditioned body remained helpless and weak.

This was all for about 15 seconds, as my mind finally won the mental boxing match and I leapt up to headbutt the Bandit Leader in the chin with all my might.

Stinging pain flared from my neck, so I knew he’d managed to knick me. I didn’t cry out, gritting my teeth to stop the reflexive cry, but my guards were both keen-eyed and obsessive, so the sight of my blood flipped the switch and an all-out brawl ensued.

For all the advantage they had in numbers, they were still nothing more than countryside bandits, poor in diet and with feeble weapons stolen from passing mercs. Compared to the well-trained knights wielding the best iron-forged weapons the duchy could buy, the fight would not last long.

Unfortunately for me, it may last long enough for me to be killed by a very pissed off Bandit Leader.

It was clear now that I didn’t have the novel on my side – I wasn’t the protagonist Relena. Since the greenhouse fire didn’t kill me, then it was very likely a mountainside bandit would. Heero would return home to the sad(?) fact that his amnesiac husband died while traveling the province, and knowing my luck, my corpse would probably be found near the future iron mine, like some morbid mine marker.

Dodging around trees and debris, heart hammering in my chest, I kept an ear out for the clanging of swords and cries to make sure I couldn’t hear Lyle or Mikhail being struck down. The Bandit Leader was in hot pursuit so I couldn’t turn around to see, instead just trying to put some obstacles between me and death.

I was slipping through dead leaves and rocky ground now, and for all his many faults, the Bandit Leader still had more practice with this kind of terrain than I did. Adrenaline got me this far but it wouldn’t take me much further. Either the knights would have to come save me or I’d get slain by the bandit, and the latter was starting to look far more likely.

At least it wasn’t death by fire this time. That was the only consolation.

“You might as well give up, Your Grace,” Bandit Leader cajoled mockingly. He was closing in on me but I guess he didn’t feel the need to do so too quickly – it was obvious I was slowing down. He must have had more faith in his cohorts than I realized, probably thinking their numbers were enough to subdue my knights. I hoped Mikhail and Lyle killed him bloodily.

My heavy footfalls were loud, even to me. My breaths were shorter now, my limbs heavier – I was almost at my limit. I wanted to curse other-me even more now; if he’d been even slightly more athletic, I may have lasted long enough to get saved.

“I’m gonna catch you~!”

To be killed by this kind of hokey, third-rate villain was the worst!!!

An upturned tree root was what did me in. I was sent to the ground in an undignified heap, knees and hands stinging from my second rough landing. I tried to get back up but a foot made heavy contact with my side and I was sent back down to the ground with a pained yelp. Another kick landed me further away, and I rolled down a slight decline until my back hit a fallen log.

“Caught you~!” the Bandit Leader grinned down at me.

He was missing three teeth, the rest looking rotted brown. There was a scar running length-wise down one cheek. A dirty bandana covered his bald head, bushy black brows above beady dark eyes.

Truly the epitome of a third-rate minor villain…

“I’d wanted to have a little fun with you before I killed you,” he sneered. “But now I just wanna kill you.”

With lines like that, I could see why an editor would have cut his appearance from the novel. What a walking cliché.

He drew the point of his shortsword threateningly over my chest. “Quick or slow, _dandy_? I might let you pick…”

“Whatever option means you shut the hell up.”

That earned me another kick, this one sending me over the fallen log to land amongst the jagged edges of rocks. I picked myself up to bleeding hands and knees, trying to keep him in my field of vision despite having the wind knocked out of me again.

His mouth was opening, likely to deliver another awful villainous line, but his words were cut off in a spray of blood as red-stained metal plunged through his torso. I must have looked as surprised as he did, especially as the blade was pulled out with a sickening _splurch!_ sound, the bandit’s eyes rolling up as he collapsed to the ground dead.

Mikhail, standing behind him, looked absolutely pissed. Lyle was running towards us as well, and though blood splattered their garments, it was clear they were both unharmed and no worse for wear. The Yuy knights were really impressive!

“Your Grace, where does it hurt?” Mikhail asked in a rush, clambering down the tiny slope to meet me. “Lyle, get the salve and bandages!”

As Lyle went through the knapsack carrying our medical supplies, I remembered the stinging pain on my neck. I winced as I sat up, one hand holding my side where the bandit had kicked me twice. “Your timing is too good,” I muttered, grimacing slightly – no broken bones but I was definitely bruised as hell. “Thanks for killing him before I had to listen to any more of his bullshit.”

I expected Mikhail to rib me over the cursing again, but he just grinded his teeth, vein over his temple throbbing as he cleaned the wound on my neck and bandaged me up. Lyle took our point position, scanning the area with his sword still drawn.

Guess they were still in battle mode. I’ll shut up then.

Mikhail looked to internally agonize over checking my ribs to make sure they weren’t broken but not wanting to take off my shirt to touch my bare skin. Caution beat out modesty and my shirt was tugged up, his hands warily skimming my sides to validate my initial internal evaluation: nothing broken or fractured, but definitely bruised.

I pulled my shirt back down, Mikhail putting away the supplies, still grim-faced. Since they were still in fight-or-flight mode, I decided to keep my idle thoughts to myself, looking around while they began to wrap up the bandit’s body.

The rocks I fell onto looked to have been the result of a cave entrance. They littered the ground, mixed with the dead leaves and dirt that tracked into the cave mouth, a natural archway that broke into three gaping mouths draped in green moss. It was too dark inside to see the true extent of the interior, and I was too exhausted to explore further – something told me that this would be my last day of hiking, once Hilde saw these injuries.

I idly kicked a nearby rock, feeling put-out. I got nearly killed for nothing! And my knights were angry to boot, likely because I was too weak to defend myself and now they’d be blamed for me getting injured on their watch. It was like being kicked back to square one when everyone feared and hated me!

I kicked another rock, mulishly watching it hit a larger, orange-ish rock and rebounding. I tilted my head in curiosity – was that orange moss? – but then the large chunk seemed to _sparkle_.

I froze. _No fucking way._

“Your Grace, we should head back—” Mikhail began to call behind me but I wasn’t hearing it. I dashed towards the larger rock which sat closer to the mouth of the cave, ignoring the confused cries behind me.

Dropping to my knees – _ow!_ – I inspected the rock closely; it gleamed dusty silver back into my eyes. I tore my gaze off it to look further into the cave, eyes following the trail of shining debris where I knew even more awaited.

“Iron ore,” I murmured. “It’s iron ore!”

_I found it!_

Holy shit, novel-logic strikes again! I guess one near-death experience was needed to discover it after all!

Picking up a hand-sized piece, I turned around in excitement to face my two knights, who were now only a scant step behind me. “This is an iron ore deposit!” I exclaimed in triumph. “If we mine this, we’ll have our own supply of iron!”

They gaped at the gleaming piece held out in my hand.

There’s no way they could stay angry at me over this!

* * *

They stayed angry.

Well, not at _me_ precisely – Mikhail and Lyle seemed more upset that I had been injured, but not in the “we failed our job so the boss is angry” way, but more like “we fail as human beings because we couldn’t protect our precious lord” sort of way. Twas the way of romance novel-knights, but I still felt bad.

I felt less bad when their drive to protect me became an obsession, which meant anything that even slightly inconvenienced me would be regarded with wary suspicion. Even worse, they’d gotten the rest of the guards in on it so I couldn’t even sneeze without someone trying to wrap me in something warm and feed me hot soup. I never knew being surrounded by mother hens would be akin to a circle of hell…

And Hilde was actually _worse_.

When we finally got back to the town and she saw me wrapped in bandages and heavily bruised, it took all I had to convince her not to bundle me up and leave Aoba-ku that very moment. It didn’t help that Mikhail whole-heartedly agreed with her, so I had to use my Scary Duchess Powers to lay down the law.

That, and when I whimpered pitifully enough that I was “just _so tired_ and in _so much pain_ ,” they thought the journey back would be too much for me in my current state and finally conceded to staying. I did have to stop them from desecrating the bandit leader’s corpse though, that wouldn’t do any good for their public image.

While confined to bedrest by my fanatical caretakers, I revealed my discovery of the iron ore deposit to Rohito. He and some of the villagers, along with Lyle, went back to the site to check it out: it was indeed a natural iron ore deposit, the cave system going very far in that they wouldn’t be able to explore it all in one day.

Naturally, Rohito was delighted by the discovery, thanking me profusely and gushing about how this was sure to revitalize Aoba-ku. I – still confined to my bedroom by the way, if I even dared try to take a step outside the house, I had at least three frantic knights ushering me back in – asked Rohito to gather his town’s engineers.

Unfortunately, Aoba-ku didn’t have any engineers. They had a few architects and blacksmiths, but given that their town focused more on farming than anything else, I decided I’d have to send actual engineers down here once I’d returned to the estate.

“What do you need engineers for, Your Grace?” Rohito asked. He’d always been respectful, ever since I’d first arrived here, as was due to me as the duchess – but now his tones were bordering on _reverent_.

I pretended not to notice. Maybe if I didn’t acknowledge it, it would go away on its own. “For the mining,” I said. “I want to make sure that we’re following all safety protocols, as it’ll be especially dangerous once we start tunneling deeper. We’ve also recently developed a steam engine that is able to pump out the water that collects in the mines so we’ll need to start making those as well.”

“The _Maxwell-Yuy steam engine_ ,” Lyle jumped in from his guard position in the corner of my room. “His Grace the Duchess created it himself. The engineers in Taketoyo were amazed!”

…I should probably pray for forgiveness from the actual inventors later…

Vehemently ignoring the even more worshipful look on Rohito’s face, I continued on. “I’ve made some improvements on the blast furnaces we use to smelt iron as well, so I’ll have them start to construct those nearby.”

Schematics given to the mayor – I had copies back home, which would be reproduced and given to the engineers sent down here – and still not able to go farther than the drawing room, I boredly waited for my body to feel less beat up. Now that my mission was completed, I was fine with leaving Aoba-ku but I probably had to wait until I stopped wincing every time I took my shirt off before my guards would let me.

“I think I’ll write a letter,” I decided, the third day into my smothering hospitalization. “And no, Hilde, writing a letter is not a strenuous activity – don’t even start.”

Hilde’s mouth closed, her eyes burning in rebellion.

She eventually relented when I promised to rest after I was done, so quill and paper were given in short order. There weren’t many people to write to for me; I could ask for updates from the Taketoyo engineers or the Sawara brewers, or I could try to reason with Howard ahead of time before Hilde got to him first, but I decided on Heero in the end.

Not for any romantic reasons, of course. If anything, it was more like a stress reliever – kind of like writing to your favorite celebrity without any expectation of a response.

_Dearest Husband…_

I paused. Should I continue the trend of the first letter, using the most flowery and romantic language I could muster? But now that I had a good grasp on his identity, the idea seemed distasteful and insincere – wouldn’t it be better to write as _me_ now? Other-me was awful, and there should be limits on what exactly I needed to replicate from him after all.

Scratching out the first line, I started again.

_Dear Heero…_

* * *

**A/N** : I'm so excited for the next chapter because I finally get to to have Meilan~

 _Please be kind and_ **_drop a comment and kudos!_ :)**


	6. Arc I, Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Heero doesn't realize is that Duo actually makes less sense in person.

**A/N** : Just so you know, chapters that actually have the subtitle “Dear Heero…” will generally be shorter than other chapters.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

_Dear Heero…_

* * *

“You have letters from the provincial capital, Your Grace.”

Heero tensed briefly, looking over at the opening of his tent where the messenger waited. The young man flinched at the sight of his eyes, passing over his burden to Trowa and beating a hasty retreat once the commander excused him.

“It’s because you were glaring, Your Grace,” Quatre explained candidly, understanding Heero’s confused expression over the messenger’s harried exit. 

Heero frowned. “I wasn’t glaring,” he muttered. _I think._

Quatre made a noncommittal noise that was both supportive and dismissive. Sometimes Heero hated his friends.

“It’s from Howard,” Trowa spoke up, dropping the letters on Heero’s desk. “And the Duchess.”

 _Gah_.

“You’re glaring again.”

“ _Shut up_ , Quatre.”

Procrastinating reading Duo's letter by reading Howard’s letter first, Heero scanned the contents once. Then twice. Then a third time, just to be sure, but when the information didn’t change – Heero stood from his seat, moving to the back of the tent where he kept his previous letters from Howard stashed.

“Bad news?” Trowa asked.

“They reorganized the provincial budget,” Heero stated. “Under the orders of the Duchess.”

“They _what_?” Wufei hissed in outrage.

Pulling out the last few letters from Howard that detailed the cash flow of the estate and the duchy, Heero returned to his desk to run the numbers. It wasn’t long – he’d been crunching these numbers since he was 15 and there hadn’t been much change – but the result he got was surprising.

To be sure, he passed it to Quatre to look over.

“…he reduced his own allowance?” was Quatre’s verdict, sounding as confused as Heero felt.

“He separated the amount needed to pay the capital tax,” Heero explained. “Then allocated the leftover funds to the Yuy dukedom or provincial development.”

The ‘Yuy dukedom’ looked to be an account for maintenance of the Yuy estate and the personal wealth of the Yuy family. They had their hands in some businesses both in and out of the province, so these funds were sent to this account.

The ‘provincial development’ account was more surprising; it was funded by the taxes collected from the Yuy fief, but seemed to be reserved exclusively for the fief itself. There were budgeting reports – Howard had kindly boiled them down to simple stats – for infrastructure support (roads that were cleared and maintained to ease travel between cities and towns), development of human services (clinics in areas of high-need being built), and economic development (this was much more vague, but Howard had written something about a “steam engine”???).

The personal allowance of the Duchess had also been vastly reduced, back to its original number when they had first been married.

“Oh, this is really well-organized,” Quatre gasped, looking over Howard’s more detailed accounting of the provincial budget. “The Duchess did this?”

Heero moved on to the second page of Howard’s letter. “That’s what Howard implied,” he said. The others traded disbelieving glances; Heero whole-heartedly agreed. He couldn’t see Duo sitting down long enough to even read the full account of the provincial budget, much less reform it.

“It looks like he went on a trip around the province too,” Heero read aloud.

Trowa stared at him, gaze coolly assessing. “To meet another of his lovers?”

Heero scowled but the expression smoothed out quickly enough. “No, one is in the Farrell province, the other is visiting the Capital,” he replied. Just because Duo made no effort to hide his affairs didn’t mean Heero had to acknowledge them, but he at least kept track of the people his husband cheated on him with, just in case. He didn’t want them conspiring to assassinate him (or even Duo) for their greed; love had never been a part of any of Duo’s relationships, with either his husband or his lovers.

Sometimes Heero wondered if Duo could even feel love.

“He visited Taketoyo… Sawara… and Aoba-ku?”

“Taketoyo would be nice to visit,” Trowa mused. “But Sawara is a farming village and Aoba-ku is in the mountains. Why would the Duchess go there?”

“Howard keeps mentioning something about a ‘steam engine’,” Heero said, looking over the expense report for the Taketoyo stay. Why was it so low?

“I’ve never heard of it,” Wufei said, the other two nodding in agreement.

“Howard said they’re brewing a new drink in Sawara,” Heero reported. “The Duchess suggested it. Have any of you tried ‘whiskey’?”

“Is His Grace just making things up now to waste money?” Wufei complained.

Howard even mentioned something about the invention of a new distillation process, but it was too vague that Heero could only surmise it was needed to make the ‘whiskey’ drink Duo had wanted. Maybe Wufei was right…

Heero stared at the section about Aoba-ku.

“…they found an iron mine in Aoba-ku,” he stated aloud, incredulous. _What the hell was Duo doing?_

Quatre’s eyes were still skimming the budget reports. “I wonder if the Duchess will allocate those resources to the ‘provincial development’ account…”

A section of the letter was written in thin, strict script – Hilde’s writing. It looks like she’d been going around the province with Duo and her report on Aoba-ku was both straight-forward and startling. “Duo was attacked by bandits while hiking in Aoba-ku,” he summarized.

“He was attacked?!”

“He was _hiking?!_ ”

“Hilde said…he was nearly beheaded when he got separated from the knights guarding him…” Clearly Heero would have to put them through more training. How did a frail dandy manage to elude his own guards?!

Trowa looked at the second letter, the one Heero had been avoiding. “Do you think he means to complain straight to you about it?”

At this point, Heero wasn’t sure. Duo should have been asking for reparations one near-death experience ago.

“His knights rescued him and slayed the bandits, and Duo’s made a full recovery… But it seems he’s the one who found the iron mine…” What was Duo even doing hiking in the mountains to begin with?

 _Maybe his letter will explain more,_ Heero thought. Opening the letter from Duo, he felt a mix of relief and (bemusingly) disappointment when no pressed flowers fell out of the envelope. He opened the letter up, surprised to note he’d also lost the _‘Dearest Husband’_ greeting too.

_Dear Heero,_

_I hope you’re doing well! I heard from Hilde that there is no Spring in Lagrange – only Winter and Summer. The more she talked about it, the hotter I felt, so I can only imagine how you’re feeling. Please remember to drink lots of water and stay in the shade when you can._

_Howard and Hilde were kind enough to ~~let me out of the house~~ organize a small trip around the province for me. I got to see the beautiful sea from Taketoyo’s port, enjoy the fresh food of Sawara, and feel the cool mountain breeze from Aoba-ku. It’s been a very enjoyable trip so far, but we’ll be on our way back to the Yuy estate soon ~~because some people are a little paranoid~~._

_There was a small incident in Aoba-ku, but it was nothing to worry about! I just got a few scratches, ~~and if anyone says differently, it’s because they’re overprotective~~. But I think you’ll be hearing some good news about it soon enough! We were lucky enough to stumble across it, so I’m hoping our citizens will take heart from this new discovery and search for even more._

_All in all, everyone is doing well, and your people await your return very earnestly._

_Stay safe._

_Sincerely,_

_Duo_

He didn’t explain anything?!

* * *

**A/N** : I love that the boys’ response to Duo for now is just “???!!!!”

 _Please be kind and_ **_drop a comment and kudos!_ :)**


	7. Arc I, Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dandies and handkerchiefs and ladies with Tea™, oh my!

**A/N** : We’re about caught up to everything I had written previously, but because I’m keeping the chapters to this story short and trying so hard to distract myself, I update quickly for now ✌️

* * *

**Chapter 7**

* * *

My return to the Yuy estate was met not with the exasperation I was half-expecting, but instead a reform I had no intention of ever getting involved in.

“I would like to formally apologize on behalf of my men, Your Grace,” Acting Knight Commander Broden stated, kneeling in remorse. He was the temporary leader of the knights who were tasked to remain at the Yuy estate while the main force went on the expedition, acting as their leader until Heero and Commander Barton returned. “For our inability to protect you from injury, I have revised and intensified our training so that this does not happen again.”

That sounded like he was not only going to make them stronger, he was also going to make them _crazier_ in protecting me.

That was just _terrifying_.

“Your men did an excellent job protecting me, Commander, so there’s no need for apologies!” I refuted. “They saved my life and I only got a few scratches!”

His eyes drilled into the bandage still wrapped around my throat. I’d had Doctor Po examine the injury the moment I’d returned, and though she said it would likely scar, I seemed to be healing up just fine. I’d had to frantically ask her if there was anything she could do about the scarring because the look on the faces of the servants had been frightening, but I think that just made it worse because then they assumed I was worried about my looks or something.

“I thank you for your kind words, Your Grace,” Commander Broden replied, notably not taking back his apology or changing his mind about the training.

“And it all worked out in the end!” I added with a beaming grin. “We discovered an iron ore mine, which will really help the duchy in the future!”

“You nearly got _beheaded_ for _iron ore_ ,” Hilde hissed ominously behind me.

Why was no one excited by the iron ore discovery?! I’d double checked the resources of the other provinces of the Sanc Kingdom too; while a few did have iron mines, the Yuy duchy having their own would greatly contribute to our trade and wealth, so we could improve the infrastructure and lives of our citizens! I even hashed out blueprint after blueprint of the technology needed to mine and craft it!

“I will make sure you _never_ come in harm’s way again, Your Grace,” Commander Broden swore, with the same eyes my guards had worn for the trip back home.

Feeling the sense of impending doom, I nodded weakly.

* * *

One month after my grand tour resulting in the cult-like loyalty of the guards and six months into first waking up in the world of the novel, I began my dandy etiquette lessons.

Howard had hired a tutor that had been sworn to secrecy, as they were hesitant to let the world outside of the estate know the true extent of my “condition.” As it had been half a year since I was first diagnosed with “temporary amnesia,” Doctor Po had revised her initial assessment and claimed it was likely permanent. They didn’t think I’d forgotten everything, as I’d used my knowledge of the novel to claim that some memories had returned to me, but it was clear to those that knew the other-me well that I had memory gaps.

We’d mentally run the idea that I could claim to be in poor health after nearly dying in the greenhouse fire, which would have excused me from most political and social obligations outside of the estate. I shot the down the idea myself; I didn’t want to be kept caged in and regarded as useless, as that would directly work against everything I’d been trying to do until now.

Thus, I’d have to relearn the customs and manners that governed the higher-class. I was a blessedly fast learner, a boon of my good memory, so I usually didn’t need to be told things more than once. However, there were some things that could only be learned through experience - such as dance, or posture, or table manners – so I’d had to cajole some of the household staff to hold mock-practices with me after lessons so that I didn’t exhaust my poor teacher.

Hilde ended up being my dance partner most days, most of the female staff unable to dance the man’s part and the knights and male staff unwilling to do so as they thought it counted as cheating on Heero or something. Out of spite, I made some of the knights have tea parties with me because if I had to feel awkward then I wanted them to feel uncomfortable too.

The hierarchy of the Sanc Kingdom had also been taught to me during these lessons. Seated at the highest power were the royalty: the Queen and King, then Princess and Prince. After royalty came the peerage, and though the royal line’s power came down matrilineally, the peerage was patriarchal, at least in diction.

Highest in power, just under the royals, were Dukes and Duchesses; after them were the Marquesses and Marchionesses, then Counts and Countesses, and lastly, Barons and Baronesses. Although the words were inherently gendered, it turns out that the titles were not considered gendered at all by the people of Sanc – any peerage title could be held by either gender.

This had lead into a discussion of genders, as considered in the Sanc Kingdom. It wasn’t that Sanc was open-minded and modern in thinking, as there was no equivalent to “nonbinary” or gender fluidity yet here – it was that the ones who held peerage titles were expected to _function_ under those titles, regardless of their genders.

This is how the “dandy” and the “dame” came to be.

A dandy, as had been explained to me when I first appeared, were males of noble lineage groomed to marry other males of noble lineage. (A dame was the female equivalent – a female groomed to marry another female.) A dandy could not marry another dandy – that was considered obscene. Dandies were usually the second or third-born sons, who would never inherit their parent’s title and thus needed to be married off. Although not all non-first-born males were made into dandies, it was considered the preferred option so that the nobles didn’t have to send their children into the knighthood or merchant guilds. It did boil down to some consideration of sexual preference, however; if they couldn’t even consider batting for the same team, then they’d make a poor dandy/dame.

Male pregnancy was not a thing here. ( _I feel like I dodged a bullet…)_ I had thought that would affect the prospects of a dandy being married, but it turned out that because divorce was illegal and extramarital affairs frowned upon, the people of Sanc preferred those of a non-hetero orientation to marry the ones they were attracted to rather than the opposite gender.

The nobles married to someone of the same sex who _required_ an heir were expected to either adopt from a relative or have a child with a surrogate. It astounded me how it could be both open and narrow-minded at the same time but I kept that to myself.

Both dandies and dames were not overly-common, but nor were they extremely rare. I supposed it was like finding a four-leaf clover in a clover patch – surprisingly pleasant but not exemplary.

I was, however, one of the most renown dandies in the Sanc Kingdom. I had felt plenty sickened when Lady Aurora, my tutor, told me this - I assumed other-me had been infamous for my terrible treatment of just about everyone, but apparently the Yuy estate had kept my awful other-self’s habits very well hidden because she went on to explain how coveted I had been for my beauty.

“The Maxwell House has always been known for their violet eyes, but yours put everyone’s to shame,” Lady Aurora said. “They’re often likened to amethyst gems. Not to mention your slight physique and quick wit… You made waves when you debuted at 16. Fortunately, your father and brother were hyper-vigilant; they fought off suitors every time you attended a party.”

I bet other-me had thoroughly enjoyed the attention. He seemed like the kind of asshole who preened in the spotlight.

“You should host a tea party next month,” Lady Aurora advised me after a month of lessons. “I would normally consider this too early to host your own, but it’s obvious you’re remembering some of your etiquette lessons – you’ve picked everything up so quickly…”

I couldn’t exactly fault her that logic. Her embroidery lessons had been declared unnecessary after one afternoon; I may not know much more than basic sewing and stitching, but this body knew embroidery very well and I could complete it after all the steps had been explained to me. Hilde had said I “used to be” (other-me) very good at embroidery, so the body was just conditioned for it now.

Other-me must have been a terrible dancer then, because I still felt like a novice there…

“But who will I invite?” I asked. Tea parties were more than just a few people chatting over tea and cakes; it was a social gathering of women (and dandies!) with political sway. As a duchess, I was expected to socialize with people of high status so I couldn’t just invite the vendors from the town market.

“The wives of your highest-ranking officials should be fine,” Lady Aurora said. “They’re high enough in status to attend, but not high enough to question you even if you do slip up.”

* * *

Living in this world held a lot of shades of impostor syndrome. I was parading around as someone that was both me and not-me, acted as if I knew what I was doing when I had only an abstract idea of my purpose, all for a place and people I was expected to care about despite how little exposure I had to them. It was easy to feel like an outsider and to fall victim to the oddities any local would have known how to avoid.

Anyway, this is a long-winded way of saying that Lady Aurora must be firmly in _my_ boat, since her suggestion landed me in this situation.

“You do still look a bit under the weather, dear,” Lady Angela, wife of one of the mayors in the duchy said. She smiled as she said it, her expression seeming to read that she got away with some kind of insult to my looks with the statement. “I hope you’re not pushing yourself, even though I’m overjoyed to see you.”

I smiled back at her, glancing at Hilde standing nearby. She was acting as one of the attendants to the party, ready to serve at a moment’s notice, positioned near a garden hedge and mostly obscured from the view of my tea party attendants. I was using her expression to gauge my previous self’s relationship with the guests around me.

Hilde gave the back of Lady Angela’s head murder-eyes.

_Got it._

“Thank you for your concern, Lady Angela, you’re so sweet,” I said lightly. “I’m relieved to see you in much better health than I.”

Giving a pointed look to the fifth cake she was eating since the tea party started, I added coyly, “I’ve been trying to stay away from too much confectionary myself – I heard it was bad for the skin.”

Lady Angela set down her dessert fork and reached for a cup of tea, a sullen smile now on her face. Point one for Bitchy Me. I guess there really was an advantage for being known as an asshole.

It was a small tea party, meant to act more as my reintroduction to polite society after being “ill” for so long after my near-death experience in the greenhouse fire. Very few people knew about my provincial tour, the knights and servants being sworn to secrecy and the handful of people met in other towns keeping it to themselves for their own reasons.

I’d decided on four esteemed ladies: Lady Angela, who had been in the Yuy dukedom’s capital for a small holiday; Lady Iria, sister of Master Winner who had followed his move to the Yuy duchy; Lady Fuyunari, wife of Acting Commander Broden; and the most worrisome of guests (despite Lady Angela’s foul words), Lady Meilan, wife of Master Chang who served as an advisor to Heero.

Lady Meilan hadn’t said anything so far, but she had a look in her eyes that mirrored Hilde’s homicidal inclinations so I knew the peace wouldn’t last long. I was also trying very hard to avoid the inevitable blowout by exchanging pleasant conversation with Ladies Iria and Fuyunari, who though they seemed mildly confused by my not-complete-assholery, were kind enough to indulge me.

“Have you been spending most of your time indoors, Your Grace?” Lady Iria asked, concern coloring her tone. She was in the medical profession, and I heard from Howard that they had considered hiring her for the Yuy estate but she’d wanted to stay in town to help the commonfolk. She hadn’t ever been mentioned in the book, so aside from what I learned from my staff, I didn’t know much about her. “I very much trust Doctor Po’s abilities, so I’m sure you’re receiving the best care, but getting plenty of fresh air always helps.”

“Oh, I really agree – spending time in nature is very healing,” I said brightly, thinking back to my hiking in Aoba-ku. It had been very pretty when I wasn’t dying from exhaustion or being attacked by bandits.

Hilde apparently thought back to that trip too, shooting me a threatening glare. What a joy-killer.

Lady Meilan scoffed quietly into her tea. I politely pretended not to notice, refusing to step on that grenade.

“O-Oh, I’ve heard some interesting things around town,” Lady Fuyunari spoke up, everyone taking my cue to ignore Lady Meilan’s souring mood. “An iron ore mine was found near the town of Aoba-ku recently!”

I grinned victoriously into my teacup. Finally, someone just as excited as I was!

“I heard that as well. There’s even talk of construction of some new mining tools,” Lady Angela put in, sounding dubious.

“It will be good if it’s safer. Mining is a very dangerous job,” Lady Iria added.

I nodded in agreement. “Yes, it’s very hard labor. Not only do they have to worry about bad air quality and exhaustion, there’s also flooding and cave-ins,” I said. “We have a new tool that can pump out excess water to reduce the chances of flooding, and new support beams will be built to enforce the integrity of the walls so that the danger of cave-ins is lowered as well.”

I set my ornately-decorated teacup down on the saucer, frowning in thought. “But we also need to worry about the safety of the iron refinement. We have a new design for the blast furnaces, but there’s always a chance something may go wrong…” I should consider setting up a sort of inspection group to check for safety and work conditions, like a little medieval version of OSHA.

Breaking out of my ruminations, I realized I was getting stared at by my guests in varying degrees of surprise. Even Hilde from the far back was joining in, except she looked a lot more long-suffering about it.

Oh shit, the engineer came out. _Duchess mode on, duchess mode on!_

“Or so I’ve heard from the market!” I laughed off, willing it to work.

Lady Meilan’s gaze turned suspicious. “You’ve been to the market?”

“I’ve met with some merchants from the market,” I clarified. It wasn’t a lie, technically speaking, even if the implication was that the merchants came to the estate to see me.

“Oh? It’s good to see you still enjoy shopping,” Lady Angela tittered, eyes sweeping what she could see of my clothes. “Although I think I remember seeing this dress last summer… Were this season’s fashion not to your taste?”

Damn, she really did just strike whenever she could, didn’t she? Fucking bitch, I didn’t even mention how the make-up she had caked on made her look like some haunted Victorian doll.

“After my accident in the greenhouse, I decided to do some self-reflection,” I smiled, the words miraculously not sounding ground-out. “As I have plenty of beautiful dresses and jewels, I didn’t see the need for more.”

“Then why were you meeting the merchants?” The real question was, why was Lady Meilan so suspicious of me?

Much like her husband, she too hailed from the Kingdom of Lagrange, and from the way the novel described their culture - it seemed very focused on honor. I can see how other-me would have grated on them but I wasn’t sure if she had a personal vendetta against me for some past crime. Meilan Long was a familiar name so she must have appeared in the novel, but I think her screentime was similar to other-me’s – she must have been mentioned in passing.

“I wanted to refresh my wardrobe so I sold some of the clothes I had no intention of wearing again,” I said. This was met with another round of befuddled looks, which only made sense because most aristocrats in this age either kept their clothes for the rest of their lives, passed them to a younger relative if the gowns were still in good condition, or destroyed them for propriety’s sake.

Since it worked somewhat well before, I played my Oblivious card and drank some more tea. “Putting that aside, have you tried the _namagashi_? They’re really good today…”

* * *

“Engineering is not an appropriate topic of conversation for a tea party.”

“…I understand…”

“And neither are discussion of the working conditions of commoners.”

“…right…”

“Also, if you’re insulted by a guest of a lower rank and can’t respond in kind, state you’ve taken full offense to the underhanded remark and demand an apology.”

“…yes…”

“You are the Duchess. You can’t allow insult to your name and title.”

“…”

Thus began Lady Aurora’s Special Lesson In The Art of the Smackdown (High Society Edition).

* * *

“What are common gifts for spouses?” I asked Lady Aurora later that week, trying to catch a break from her special seminar on talking smack politely. For all that she looked like a prim and proper lady, she really did get things done; I had no idea where she found the time to write out an entire guidebook about the “art of high society communication.” Did she even sleep?

Lady Aurora granted me temporary mercy by actually answering. “Handkerchiefs you’ve personally embroidered are prized gifts,” she said. “Spouses usually embroider the House’s Coat of Arms.”

The symbol of the Yuy House was emblazoned on a blue shield-shaped banner, with angelic, feathery white wings stretched to touch their tips to the corners, two crimson-red swords crossed in the center. According to Hilde’s history lesson, the blue background symbolized the sky, to mean the Yuy dukedom would stand tall enough to reach it; the wings were a connection to a noble, ethereal purpose given by God, proof of their virtuous ways; and the two swords were drenched in the red blood of their enemies.

Come to think of it, I think the novel did mention Relena giving Heero a personally embroidered handkerchief. It wasn’t of the Yuy House’s Coat of Arms, but rather a lovely flower pattern, so maybe the Coat of Arms was too impersonal.

Coat of Arms handkerchief it is then.

The muscle memory of this body was very convenient in times like this. I knew what I was doing from an objective viewpoint, but that didn’t necessarily mean I would do it as well as someone more experienced; fortunately, other-me had been _very_ experienced and the body remembered it well.

Since I wanted to send this with my third letter whenever I wrote it, I worked on my embroidery day and night. No one aside from Lady Aurora knew what it was for, and I think at some point Hilde and Howard just gave up on questioning me, so I could work unimpeded between my lessons, my ventures to the town market, and my accounting management.

Even then, it still took the better part of two whole weeks. It would have undoubtedly taken longer if the handkerchief had been bigger but I’d gone with a smaller size. I could make him a bigger one once he returned, like for a homecoming gift.

It was only when I was finally stitching on my initials – Lady Aurora stressed I _had_ to do this to show Heero that the handkerchief was made by his husband – that Hilde finally got around to asking me what it was for.

“A gift for the Duke,” I answered distractedly. Should I put a hyphen between the M and Y, or should I just not use any punctuation at all? _Hmm…_

Hilde dropped the cup of tea she had been making for me, staring at me with wide eyes. I looked up from the mess on the floor, secretly relieved; today’s blend was freakishly sweet, I was starting to think I’d need to adjust the tea menu as well before I developed cavities.

“Lady Aurora said it’s a proper gift between spouses,” I explained to her, a bit defensive.

Hilde nodded dumbly. “It is,” she agreed. “…I’m sure His Grace the Duke will be…pleasantly surprised.”

“I just embroidered the Coat of Arms,” I told her loftily.

Her already wide eyes got wider.

“Lady Aurora said it was appropriate.” Why was I starting to feel like a kid using an adult as a shield against their parent’s chiding?

“Yes, of course it is,” Hilde agreed quickly, hearing something in my tone that must have told her I needed reassurance. “You are his husband the Duchess, it’s very appropriate.”

Well that was phrased a little weirdly, but whatever – at least I knew I wasn’t unintentionally insulting Heero or anything. I smiled happily, going back to my stitching; no punctuation then, just ‘DMY’, as my dandy aesthetic demanded it.

* * *

Kaori, one of my maids, asked me the next morning if I’d be sending pressed flowers again as well. This got me thinking – maybe I should actually be sending Heero a care package…?

* * *

**A/N** : Heero will soon learn that if he doesn’t respond to Duo’s letters, Duo will just keep escalating 😂

 _Please be kind and_ **_drop a comment and kudos!_ :)**


	8. Arc I, Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo makes a new friend and a few more enemies.

**A/N** : Thanks for reading!

* * *

**Chapter 8**

* * *

“There are rumors of slave traders being seen in Ishigaki,” Gilbert said.

Gilbert was a traveling merchant currently in the provincial capital for the town market. He dealt mostly in tonics, a benevolent snake oil salesman whose stock was mostly ineffectual but harmless. I’d spent the past few months convincing him to consider becoming a perfumer, so his stock of useless brews was slowly turning into pleasantly-scented oils.

“Slave traders?” I echoed in alarm. Ishigaki was a nearby village, which meant the slavers would be pretty close by.

Human trafficking was illegal in the Sanc Kingdom. Slave traders had been mentioned in the novel, and Relena and Heero had even taken down a group trading in one of the port cities in the Bernett province. Still, they’d never interacted with any human traffickers in Heero’s home province, so I was surprised.

Gilbert nodded. “Not a large group, mind, they probably figured they’d be caught if there were too many at once – but a friend heard the Governor bought some young girls.”

Oh _hell_ no.

* * *

“I want to visit Ishigaki.”

Hilde barely even looked up from where she was pouring my tea. “Absolutely not,” she replied, giving the fresh scar on my neck a death glare. I should consider investing in high-neck clothes from now on if this was gonna be the reaction.

“I want to perform an undercover inspection of Ishigaki,” I amended.

Howard shuffled through his documents. “Ishigaki has seen a fruitful harvest this past year, and sends us the required tax quota,” he said. “Why an inspection?”

“There are rumors the governor is facilitating human trafficking.”

Both Hilde and Howard froze.

“…Alright, an inspection seems necessary,” Howard agreed lowly. “However, I don’t think you need to personally attend, Your Grace—”

“I’m going,” I smiled.

“Your Grace—”

“I’ll leave tomorrow,” I continued smiling.

“…”

“…”

_Smile, smile!_

“…no hiking,” Hilde demanded.

* * *

Given that Ishigaki was only about a day’s travel from the provincial capital, and that I wasn’t expected to stay gone for long, I managed to talk Hilde and Commander Broden down to three guards instead of the ten they wanted to send. I also had to convince Commander Broden that _he_ could not come, and Howard – _damn him_ – had not been very helpful because he looked like he really wanted to send the actual goddamn Acting Commander of the Knights down with me. It’s like everyone was working to make this as difficult as possible.

I ended up with Hilde (who was convinced I couldn’t do anything for myself) and three knights: Mikhail (who never strayed further than 10 feet from me at any given point), Sayaka (who I was convinced threatened my horse to behave as good as a horse could because the ride felt eerily smooth), and Mifune (who shot down a bird that startled me when it suddenly took flight).

For the time being, we would keep our identities hidden and spend a day mingling with the townspeople to get the latest gossip. Gilbert had given me the name and location of his friend, a local by the name of Marion who did the blacksmithing in Ishigaki, so we would head there first after settling in the inn.

Ishigaki wasn’t big enough for more than one inn, most travelers stopping briefly for the village market or passing through on their way to bigger towns. Hilde took over getting things sorted with the front desk – I’d share a room with Hilde, and the guards would take the rooms on either side of ours – so I took the moment to look around the pub area of the ground floor.

Where I locked eyes with Lady Meilan.

_Oh shit._

I couldn’t just pretend I didn’t see her – the recognition was obvious, I’d stared too long. And she definitely recognized me if the dumbfounded look on her face was any indication.

_Time for damage control._

“Oh what a surprise!” I gushed excitedly, hurrying over to where Meilan sat alone at a table, nursing a beer. Unlike the pretty _qipao_ she’d worn to my tea party, she was dressed down in a plain blue tunic with black pants, with no finery to speak of. Much like me, it was clear she was hiding her true identity under commoner garb.

“To think we’d run into each other here,” I continued, also ignoring the way Mikhail and Sayaka hounded my steps. “It’s been awhile, _Mei_.”

Dumbfoundedness was filtering down to murderous rage with a thin mask of apathy very quickly on her face. “Yes, it’s so nice to see you… _Doe_.”

Doe? _Doe?!_

Stupid fake names aside, I had to figure out what the hell Meilan was doing here. She lived in the capital of the duchy, and though she refused to live in the Yuy estate while her husband was not present, she lived in a luxurious residence nearby. Hilde had said that though Meilan did not have a titled occupation – something to do with hers and Master Chang’s culture, where married women were expected to be homemakers and nothing else – she was well-trained in both martial arts and politics, and even sometimes was treated as another advisor to Heero.

From the way Hilde described her, Meilan had a strong sense of justice married to a truly frightening temper. Other-me and her had not gotten along, and it was decided for the sake of peace that we shouldn’t meet unless we absolutely had to, which gave her plenty of good points in my book. Anyone that disliked other-me must have a good head on their shoulders.

The only thing I could think of that would get a proud warrior like Meilan to visit Ishigaki would be the same reason _I_ was visiting Ishigaki.

I kept smiling, taking the open seat at the table. “What brings you to Ishigaki? I was stopping by to meet a friend, I heard he was selling some interesting merchandise.”

The thinly-veiled look of contempt on her face morphed into one of careful analyzation. Thank god she caught the subtext, I didn’t want to reveal to the rest of the pub-goers what I was really in town for just yet.

“Yes,” she said slowly, a dawning look of consideration on her face. “I heard much the same thing.”

 _Similar objective confirmed!_ “Oh, where are my manners? Would you like to have some tea in my room?”

“Of course, Doe, thank you.”

* * *

“Why the hell are you here?” Meilan demanded once the door to the room was shut. Mikhail waited inside the room, stationed by the entrance, as Hilde moved about to unpack our things and make some tea.

“Same reason as you, isn’t it?” I replied. “A merchant I know in the town market said the Ishigaki governor was buying people.”

Revulsion flashed across Meilan’s face but she didn’t let that distract her. “I heard much the same thing from a merchant from Shirokawa village. But why are _you_ here?”

Hilde huffed a little behind me in agreement because Hilde was a traitor. “I’m the duchess, aren’t I? Of course I should check things like this out,” I defended myself.

“That’s not within the duties of a duchess,” Hilde interjected blandly.

“As I’m the only duchess in this room, I get to decide what are duchess duties,” I said. “And duchess duties include investigating cases of human trafficking and putting a stop to them.”

“That’s actually the duty of the knights,” Mikhail piped in because I couldn’t trust anyone to have my back.

“That’s why I brought three of you,” I told him. “And Hilde, as a bonus, so that I get to enjoy her constantly second-guessing my decisions.”

“You nearly got _beheaded_ for _iron ore_.”

“Will you ever let that go?!” I cried. “And he wasn’t going to lop off my head, his sword was too dull for that!”

Now _Mikhail_ looked angry. I turned back to Meilan, who was staring intensely at my neck scar. “You were attacked?” she frowned.

“It was just a scratch,” I dismissed, ignoring the scoffing sounds behind me. “We were visiting Aoba-ku and ran into some bandits.”

“Aoba-ku?” Meilan repeated in surprise. “The town that found the iron…ore…”

I saw her connect the dots and hurried to distract her. “It was nothing, just some bad luck, but the good luck we got in return was so worth it! Anyway, about Ishigaki’s governor—”

“Did _you_ find the iron ore?!” Meilan demanded.

Hilde replied before I could because she held long grudges. “After _nearly getting beheaded_ , yes. His Grace managed to stumble across the cave of iron ore deposits after being _pursued and attacked by bandits_ , nearly beheaded by their leader in the process.”

I think Hilde was only making a big deal out of it because she didn’t have to listen to the guy’s villainous monologue. He wasn’t nearly as threatening as her words implied.

“So _anyway_ , about Ishigaki’s governor…”

* * *

We decided to break into pairs for the investigation. I was paired with Mikhail, as he was considered the strongest knight present, and together we set off to meet the town blacksmith. Gilbert’s friend Marion owned a small blacksmithing shop near the center of town, so I decided to take the long way around and get a good look at the governor’s home.

Compared to the exhaustive opulence of the Yuy estate it was nothing, but it was defiantly more luxurious than the rest of the residences in Ishigaki. It was fenced off by gray stonebrick, but I didn’t see many guards manning the area so it wouldn’t be too hard to get inside.

Satisfied by our first surveillance of the governor’s place, we headed to the center of town to find Marion. It wasn’t especially hard, as he was the only blacksmith in town, and he was more than friendly enough when I let him know I was a friend of Gilbert’s.

“Oh, you’re the smart fellow whose been trying to get him into perfumes, aren’t ya?” Marion grinned. “Not a bad idea, I agreed wit’ ya. Ol’ Gil will come around soon, he’s been having my girls try out his newest goods.”

‘His girls’ was in reference to his two adorable twin daughters, both around 10 years of age. They flittered around the blacksmith shop, smartly telling me about all of the tools they knew; it was clear they adored their father. I couldn’t stop grinning at them, they were so damn cute!

“They’ve been selling well back at the provincial capital too,” I said. “I expect he’ll only needed to be punched out by one more irate customer before he finally gets his head screwed on straight.”

Marion’s laughter was loud and hearty. He shooed out his daughters, telling them to let their mom know he’d be home in time for dinner, so we watched the two girls bicker and run off. It wasn’t until I was sure they were out of sight that I got down to what I was really doing in Ishigaki.

“Gil also told me about some of the rumors he heard around here,” I started. Marion straightened a bit, grin falling off his face to be replaced by a somber frown. “There any truth to it?”

Marion glanced around the shop area – aside from both us and Mikhail, it was empty. “It was around a week ago, near dead at night,” he said quietly. “A couple of the local kids – the shoemaker’s boy and his friend – saw a group of people entering through the back gate of the governor’s home. That was already suspicious enough, but then they noticed the chains; they got these young men and women – said the youngest looked to be about 15 years in age – all chained up by their wrists, being ushered into the place.”

“Have you noticed or heard anything odd before about the governor?”

Marion shook his head. “Man mostly keeps to himself. Sends a page to announce events, and his guards to collect the taxes. We’re a self-sufficient bunch here, you know – don’t think we really need much governing.”

I frowned. It sounded to me like the governor wasn’t doing much but indulging in his vices.

“There’s no clinic here?” Mikhail asked, eyes scanning the row of vendors out in the street. “I didn’t see any when we were walking around town earlier.”

“We got a few herbalists,” Marion answered. “If someone’s sick or injured, we go to one of them. If it’s really bad, we ride to the provincial capital.”

My frown morphed into a scowl. I’d reviewed Ishigaki’s budget and account before leaving for the trip; they had definitely been given a subsidy to set up a small clinic. It looks like I’d have to add ‘embezzlement’ to the governor’s list of crimes.

“Thanks for speaking with us, Marion,” I said, flashing him a grin. “We’ll be on our way then. Don’t wanna keep you from your girls and the missus.”

“’Ey, if you’d ever tasted my wife’s stew, you’d thinking keeping me away would be a mercy.”

* * *

Reconvening back at the inn in time for supper, we hashed out what we’d learned from our separate trips around town. It looked like everyone had heard the same story we had heard from Marion: chained-up youth being herded into the governor’s property. They also confirmed the lack of clinic, and Hilde had mentioned a nearby bridge starting to crumble and become too hazardous to cross.

“It sounds like we’ll need to get into the governor’s place and see if we can find those slaves,” I said. “According to his budget, he should only have five servants to staff his property and around 10 guards.”

My knights didn’t look impressed by the numbers. I imagine any one Yuy knight was equivalent to 10 mercs.

“Should we storm the gates?” Meilan asked, like this was a completely normal Plan A.

“No, they could kill their captives and claim they were criminals or something before we saved them,” I shook my head. “We need something less aggressive…”

The idea came to me, and I knew immediately no one was going to be happy about it.

“Would the governor recognize us?” I asked Hilde. “Me or Lady Meilan?”

Hilde shook her head. “Your marriage parade never passed through Ishigaki Village, and the Duke never had any reason to call the governor to the estate.”

Just the answer I wanted to hear. They were gonna _hate_ this.

“We’ll walk through the front doors,” I said, mind feverishly churning over the idea. “As slavers.”

Horror over all the faces present. Good reaction so far.

“Or, more precisely, Lady Meilan and Mikhail will be the slavers,” I continued. “They’ll ask for an audience with the governor. While that’s underway, Sayaka and Mifune can sneak into the property from the back to look for the captives.”

With Meilan and Mikhail acting as uninvited guests with presumably much-desired merch for the governor, it would distract the guards and hopefully the man himself enough so that the other two knights could get in and snoop around. If the governor also fell for the bait, we could charge him for human trafficking even if the captives were not present.

“You want me to pretend to be a slave trader?!” Meilan snapped in outrage.

“Do you want to find those innocent victims or not?!” I hissed back. “Is your pride worth their lives?!”

Her mouth snapped shut, startled.

“Wait, how are we meant to be slavers without slaves?” Mikhail asked in confusion.

Here came the part they were _really_ going to hate. “From the way Marion described it, it seems likely they’re pleasure slaves,” I said. “And, well, I am quite easy on the eyes…”

There was another pause as they digested this and what I was leading into, before all of them – and I do mean _all_ of them, even Meilan – began to furiously object.

“ _Absolutely fucking not—”_

“—you are the _Duchess_ —”

“—incredibly dangerous—”

“—if he lays even _one_ finger on you—”

“It’s an act,” I interjected into the cacophony. “We’re _meant_ to be a distraction. Do try not to actually sell me off.”

“You are not going to be the slave!” Hilde retorted angrily. “ _I_ will be the slave!”

“Hilde, no offense, you’re lovely… But objectively speaking, I am _very_ pretty…”

And there was no way in hell I was letting Hilde be the slave. Who knows what that creep would do to her? The only thing she should worry about is making sure I don’t kill myself by eating bad meat in the marketplace. I wasn’t going to ask her to play the part of a sex slave.

The argument lasted well into the night.

I won, but only barely. I’m pretty sure they only complied because they knew I’d walk in there with or without their agreement.

* * *

“We’re here to see your governor.”

I wouldn’t say Meilan was a _good_ actor, but fortunately, the honesty of her expressions actually served to help her play the role rather than detract from it. Contempt mixed with haughtiness was a good start for a slave trader only deigning to speak with a possible client, and it gave the impression she thought she was too good to beg for his attention.

Mikhail, a step behind and adjacent to me, was dressed in worn leather under the guise of being her mercenary guard. I was wrapped in a cloak myself, thankfully not standing out due to the late hour, and keeping my head bowed. I wasn’t chained – I couldn’t get them to go that far – so I was playing the role of a super-obedient slave.

The concession I had to make in order to play the role was allowing Hilde to come along as well, except she was Meilan’s personal attendant. She was stood next to me, and I was sure that if any passing guard tried to get handsy, they’d soon find themselves missing limbs.

“The gov’nor ain’t seeing nobody tonight,” one of the guards drawled.

I stepped past Hilde to cling to Meilan’s arm, all to stop her from lashing out and breaking the idiot’s face. Honestly, I wanted to be violent too, so why did I have to play the peaceful one here!!

“It’s cold here, Master,” I said huskily, letting the hood slip off my head to reveal my face. No one in our group knew what a proper pleasure slave looked like, so we’d borrowed some make-up from the innkeeper’s wife and outlined my eyes in red eyeshadow, painting my lips a slightly darker shade. Hilde pulled some fancy twists into my hair and left the rest of it down to cascade around my shoulders, so I hoped I looked more sexy than ridiculous.

Meilan froze in my arms, but so did the guards so I counted it a win. No one calls someone “Master” unless they had a very specific occupation, so that was enough to let the guards know exactly _what kind_ of business Meilan had with their boss.

“Well, we should get a good look at the goods, I reckon…” the guard from before leered in my direction.

Mikhail edged forward.

“These goods are wasted on _dog’s shit_ like you,” Meilan sneered, shouldering past the guard and knocking him back a few steps. “I’ll be sure to pass on my sympathies to your governor when I see him in the provincial capital soon for missing out on this chance.”

“Oh, was he the man coming to visit during the Winter Solstice?” I simpered to her, flashing a coy smile in the guard’s direction.

“But it seems he’s too busy for us tonight,” Meilan said with a dismissive glance at the guards gathered around us.

It was a gamble but I appreciated her resolve to play the part. With this, the guards would think that she was of a high enough status to be chummy with the corrupt governor, and also shared his interests in pleasure slaves. If she did leave at their cold welcome, it could be enough of an insult that the governor may become irate when he learned of it.

“Now, hold on,” a different guard, a lot less interested in me and more focused on sucking up to Meilan, started approaching. “We’ll let the governor know you’ve come—”

“If you’re intending to make us wait, we’re leaving,” Meilan cut him off obstinately. “I’ve wasted enough of my time even coming to this grimy little village!”

Somewhere out there, Marion’s heart was breaking at the insult to his home.

“We’ll—”

Meilan turned around, dragging me along. “We’re leaving then!”

“Wait, madame, please!!”

* * *

“You’re crazy,” I breathed into Meilan’s ear.

We were following the more lax guard from before down a corridor lined in paintings and expensive art pieces. I bet that if we sold every luxury good in this hallway, we could get started on setting up the small clinic Ishigaki should have had all along.

“I don’t want to hear that from the one who _made_ the plan,” Meilan whispered back.

“We got inside, didn’t we?”

Meilan glared at me, but thankfully we’d arrived and she had to pull back on her mask of derisive apathy. The guards on either side of the door scanned us, then looked at Hilde and Mikhail suspiciously. “No guards,” they stated.

Meilan rose a haughty eyebrow. “She’s my servant,” she said curtly, motioning to Hilde.

“Then she can stay outside with the guard,” they said. They looked me over, so I curled a bit more into Meilan’s side – there was no way I was letting her go in there without me. She’d probably tear the governor to bits after one stray remark.

I glanced back at Hilde, staring at her especially hard and willing my silent message to reach her: _stay here._

Hilde glared back at me.

I glared back harder.

She sighed and gave a nod, scrutinizing the two guards as they took her nod as affirmation to their orders rather than my own. I could tell she was mentally stacking up the odds, but we all knew Mikhail could easily handle them. They may have been better than the countryside bandits, but Mikhail had both experience and formal training on his side.

The guard escorting us announced our presence to the room, realizing belatedly no one had actually asked for our names and quickly introducing us as “esteemed guests” before he led us through the doors.

The governor was a stocky man of average height, thinning blonde hair falling to his shoulders frizzily, thin brows barely discernible over narrowed blue eyes. He was reclined onto his lounge room sofa, a decadent example of corruption given the splendor of the room and his own night-time robes, a scantily-clad woman decades younger than him half in his lap.

“Esteemed guests?” the governor echoed in bemusement. I tore my eyes away from the girl to look at the floor, falling back on my obedient slave role and hoping he couldn’t see the fine tremors wracking my body. Meilan was stiff beside me – I could sense she was reaching her limit of what she was willing to put up with.

The doors closed behind us after our escort retreated from the room. I allowed the cloak I’d been wearing to fully drop to the floor, revealing the more skin-exposing outfit I was wearing underneath: loose white tunic pants that hung off my hips, tight-fitting matching sleeveless top with black embroidery around the seams, and delicate silver cuffs around my upper arms and matching bracelets.

Clearly pleased with what he saw, the governor smiled at me silkily before looking to Meilan. “I don’t believe we’ve met…?”

“Friend of a friend,” Meilan said stiffly. I imagined if she stood any closer to the man, she’d be going for his throat. I wound myself around her arm once more in a silent plea to keep her composure; any premature violence may injure the girl beside him or endanger the slaves we still had yet to find. “I am Mei Chiang.”

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit, Miss Chiang?”

“Similar interests,” Meilan said, moving further into the room with me still on her arm. “I can see my competitors have sold you inadequate products.”

She made a show of giving the girl a slow-once over, then raising her hand to lightly pet my hair. “I believe my pet far outshines all of theirs combined,” she purred.

 _Damn_ , maybe she could act after all!

“He _is_ eye-catching,” the governor agreed, hungry eyes roving over me.

I smiled at him, turning my head to whisper into Meilan’s ear, allowing my hair to slide over my shoulders to hide my face. “We gotta sell it, get him to agree to at least consider buying slaves aloud,” I said softly. “Offer me as a gift, like a free sample, then have him agree to take a look at your other slaves. Leave the room and try to take the girl with you, she can help us find where the others are being kept.”

Meilan ran a hand down my arm, using my hair curtain to hide her words. “You’ll be put in danger, Your Grace,” she hissed back.

“I can stall him,” I promised her. “Just work fast.”

Before she could argue with me again, I pulled back and stood up in one fluid motion. It was better I spearhead this, since Meilan was clearly in the _‘that’s not what duchesses do!’_ camp. She’d have no choice but to follow the plan now.

I sauntered over to the governor, settling down on the seat beside him. I could see Meilan’s hands flexing like she wanted to throttle something – likely me – but fortunately the governor only had eyes for me at the moment. I guess there was a boon to being in the body of a pampered dandy.

“A proposition then,” Meilan started evenly, her expression apathetic. “I have more just like him, some even better. If you’re interested, I can bring them over tomorrow…and you can have that one,” a dismissive motion made to me. “For tonight, as a gesture of goodwill.”

“A delightful gift,” the governor mused, one hand reaching out to squeeze my ass.

I very carefully didn’t react. Meilan froze briefly, eyes burning, but wisely said nothing.

“Even Atticus wasn’t so generous,” the governor continued, dislodging the girl from his lap roughly. She landed on the floor with a surprised cry. “If your other slaves are as high quality as this one, I’d love to see them.”

He ran fingers through my hair languidly. Obediently, I crawled into his lap, shooting Meilan a pointed look between her and the girl still kneeling on the ground. I could practically see her grinding her teeth as she stood, slowly moving forward. Hooking one hand under the girl’s chin, she tilted her face up as if inspecting her.

“I suppose Atticus isn’t that much of a snake,” she mused aloud, tilting the girl’s head this way and that. “Her face isn’t bad. He’s sold some truly vile merchandise before so I’m a bit surprised.”

“Perhaps he didn’t want to get on my bad side,” the governor chortled, stroking my ass again. Maybe I should worry less about Meilan killing him because I was definitely about to. “If she pleases you, you can have her for the night as well – as a ‘gesture of goodwill’.”

Meilan smiled at him. I was very keenly reminded of Hilde. “The kindness is appreciated,” she purred.

“Appreciated enough for a discount?”

“Oh, more than appreciated,” Meilan agreed. She grabbed the girl by her arm and pulled her up so she could stand. “I’ll take my leave with your gift, then, governor. Tomorrow, the same time is fine?”

“Perfectly fine, Miss Chiang.”

Meilan gave me one last look before turning and dragging the poor girl along behind her. They stepped out and I got to glimpse Hilde’s darkening expression just before the doors closed after them, leaving me alone with the man who kept fondling my ass.

Alright, so I talked a big game, but my focus had been on getting the poor girl out of here and finding the others. Now that I was alone with Creepy McPervert, I didn’t actually know what to do. From the way his hands kept wandering, I don’t think he was up for a discussion about the latest baseball game, or whatever sports they played here.

“Do you have a name, Pet?” he asked, breath washing over my face. _Ugh_.

I looked up at him beneath long lashes. “Doe, sir,” I answered, because Meilan was an awful influence.

I feel like something much more dirty was about to follow that, but there was a loud crash beyond the doors. I wanted to sigh – it figured they couldn’t behave for long. I’d been out of their eyesight for well over 5 minutes, that was probably Hilde’s and Mikhail’s breaking point.

The governor looked to the door in wary confusion. In his moment of distraction, I jumped off his lap but instead of putting more space between us, I just sucker punched him. He made a funny cry in response as his head snapped back, but I was pissed to see that wasn’t enough to knock him out.

I’d been doing some exercising at night after I got Hilde and the others to go to bed, so that no one could stop me. It was nothing too extreme as I was limited by time and available support, but at least I’d built up enough core strength not to be winded by long hikes anymore.

 _Still not enough strength though_ , I thought, punching the governor again. If it had been my body, one punch would have knocked him out. Not to mention that this body was so unused to fighting, my knuckles actually hurt from punching him!

The governor backhanded me in retaliation. It didn’t hurt as much as the bandit leader’s strikes; I guess he wasn’t too used to fighting either. I punched him a third time, which got me a gurgled response, then I punched him again just because I was pissed off and he definitely deserved it.

 _That_ finally did it. He went limp on the sofa, so I straightened up and examined my knuckles in irritation. Perhaps I could convince the staff that kickboxing was the newest exercise trend for noble dandies…

The doors slammed open, Mikhail storming in with both Hilde and Meilan on his heels. All three of them were covered in blood, which wasn’t just gross but also alarming. There were only three guards in the hall, right? How’d they manage to get that bloody?

“Are you guys okay?” I asked, a bit horrified. What had they done, bathe in it?!

They didn’t reply, too busy staring at me in shock. God, what now? It couldn’t be the outfit, they’d seen me dressed in it before we began our merry roleplay, and I was covered in much less blood than they were.

“Y-Your Grace,” Mikhail choked out. “Are you unharmed?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” I waved off. “I just knocked him out. We should probably tie him up though, I don’t think my punches do much.”

Hilde marched across the room, reaching out as if to grab me by the arm but stopping herself. “Did he…do anything to you…?” she ground out.

This was probably some weird dandy-virtue thing. Did I really have anything like honor left after what other-me had pulled from before I got here?? “No, just grabbed my as—behind. You guys started making a ruckus so he couldn’t do much.”

“Your face…”

“My first punch didn’t knock him out,” I pouted. I bet Heero didn’t have this problem; must be nice to be the main love interest. All his specs were high. “He got a swing in. I knocked him out eventually though!”

As if to mock my words, the governor let out a groan behind me. Meilan bolted forward, delivering a kick to the man’s midsection so hard that he went flying. I gawked at her in pure envy.

“Hilde… do you think I could—”

“No,” Hilde bit out, ripping a strip of cloth from her own dress to bandage my bloodied knuckles.

Oh, I’d get those kickass moves one day. Just wait.

* * *

I had to stop Meilan and the others from killing the governor so that we could get more information about the slavers, but they let out the rest of their pent-up wrath on the hired mercs who acted as his guards. It turned out that though there had only been three guards in the hall to start with, their numbers quickly escalated when Meilan exited the room without me, prompting Hilde and Mikhail to kick up a fuss. The total numbers of mercs was actually around 20, which I guess explained where some of the village’s money had gone.

I hadn’t been allowed out of the room with the now very-unconscious and very-tied-up governor, as they claimed the hallway outside was too “dirty” (read: covered in blood and gore from their killing rampage) for my eyes. Sayaka and Mifune, who had been scouring the halls nearby, had joined the fight for awhile until they’d culled the numbers enough to be handled by the other three, and then they had the slave girl we’d extracted show them the way to where the other slaves were being kept.

I very obediently stayed where I was, and when it was declared safe to leave, guided everyone back to the inn to the stunned eyes of the innkeeper. I managed to smooth things over by mercilessly using my title to assume control of the situation. Since all of my guards carried their knight emblems with them, it didn’t take long to prove my identity, and I had to make some extra time to swear Marion to secrecy because I didn’t want it spreading back to Gilbert that his friend from the town market was the goddamn duchess.

From the ones we’d liberated – three girls and two boys between the ages of 15 to 20 – we learned they’d been abducted from the nearby province of Armonia, among several of the border towns between it and the Yuy duchy. They’d stated there had been a larger camp in the Clark province, which was where they had been taken first before entering the Yuy province from its southern border.

The knights planned to take the governor back to the estate so that they could keep him locked up in their underground cells to pump more information out of him. We were going to take the abducted Armonians back as well, so that we could arrange transport with some traveling merchants to get them back home along with a hired guard to ensure their safety.

One of the last remaining issues was the vacuum of power we’d leave in Ishigaki. Their governor had hoarded the supplies and funds meant to stabilize the village, and the locals had been relying on themselves and each other to keep afloat.

The governor was someone that had been assigned by the capital bureaucracy in the provincial capital, so I wasn’t keen on repeating the same mistake. I thought it would make much more sense to send down some bureaucrats – accountants, secretaries, tradesmen – to assist someone elected by the local populace.

The village square turned into an impromptu rally until finally they’d decided on a merchant named Stern, who’d dutifully gone to nearby towns and villages to bring back much needed medicines and herbs when the village had been under the hand of their indifferent governor. I had Stern and his family move into the governor’s estate after it was cleaned up, although they planned to make the first floor serve as an interim clinic until a new clinic was made with the profit gained from selling off the previous governor’s luxury items.

It wasn’t exactly a clean wrap-up, but we got the job done.

* * *

A week later – with the captured victims sent home and resources on their way to Ishigaki – I was enjoying a nice cup of tea while I pretended Howard and Hilde weren’t devising ways to keep me cushioned against every imagined threat in the world when Meilan stormed through the study room doors.

“I spoke with the knights,” she started ominously, dark eyes locked on me almost predatorily. “They talked very _highly_ of you.”

I took a meditative sip of tea. “It was a long summer,” I said. The bruise on my cheek from the governor’s backhand was just beginning to yellow from the dark hue it had previously, and every time Mikhail and Hilde saw it, I had to remind them we needed the governor _alive_ in case the Armonian slave traders weren’t caught.

“The servants like you too. And Melissa is on _vacation_.” Meilan made it sound like I’d given Melissa the directions to the end of a rainbow in order to find the pot of gold.

I didn’t make direct eye contact even as I replied, “She was going to visit Taketoyo. They’re…doing something interesting with their boats…” Hilde’s expression inched closer to homicidal out of the corner of my eye.

Hands slammed down on my desk. “Who. Are. You?” Meilan ground out.

 _Oh_.

I thought other-me didn’t have much of a history with Meilan Long… I tried to wrack my brain for any sort of clue in the novel, but she had been so rarely mentioned…

Master Chang Wufei and Relena had had a very rough relationship in the beginning of the story. Wufei was, to put it simply, a bit of a misogynist; he gave Relena her due respect as a Duchess at first and Princess later, but he scoffed at her idealism and thought her goal was the “foolish hopes of a foolish girl.” It got better after she started traveling with Heero and working her Protagonist Princess powers on the plot, so Wufei’s grudging respect turned into a less-grudging admiration.

Heero had been the one to truly bridge the gap between them, telling Relena about the hardships Wufei had faced. His hometown had been destroyed in a Romefeller attack on Lagrange, so he’d been taken in by a nearby village where he eventually met and married his wife, Meilan Long. After they’d followed Heero back to the Yuy duchy, Wufei had been with Heero on an expedition when Meilan, left behind, took it upon herself to maintain the order and justice of the province. So when she’d heard rumors of possible human trafficking in a nearby town, she’d gone by herself to investigate – eventually saving the kidnapped victims but dying from the wounds she’d received, being outnumbered by the corrupt leader’s mercenary guards.

…

_…Wait._

Was she supposed to have died back then?!

I was overjoyed – _this made two of us!_ Meilan would be the second minor character that survived her Death By Backstory! Sure, she wasn’t an awful person like other-me, but that just meant saving her was even better!

She was obviously not _exactly_ like me - I highly doubt she died back on Earth and then got sent here, she didn't have any of the same inconsistencies I had when compared to the behavior of other-me. Not to mention she had still gone to Ishigaki alone to deal with the slave traders, and would have been outnumbered by the governor's hired muscle had I not brought Mikhail and the others with me.

So it looked like my interference did something useful!

Meilan snapped, "Are you even listening to me?!"

“I have amnesia,” I said.

She stared at me.

“It was from the accidental fire in the greenhouse,” I continued on. “Doctor Po thought it would be temporary but it’s been over half a year so now we’re sure it’s permanent. I don’t really remember much of anything.”

Meilan turned to stare at Hilde and Howard, who nodded.

She turned back to me. “But you know – you know _some_ things! Right?”

Wow, _rude_. “I remember some basic information but not a lot. If there wasn’t a picture of my husband hanging up in this room, I wouldn’t even know what he looks like.”

Hilde frowned. “But you’ve been writing him letters all this time…”

“He doesn’t write me back,” I pouted. It was like writing in a diary at this point.

“Amnesia,” Meilan shook her head. “ _That’s_ —I don’t even know. You act nothing like how you were when you first got here!”

“I don’t remember any of that time either,” I sighed. “I learned about the Maxwell House from Hilde and my etiquette tutor. I didn’t even know my eye color was a family trait.”

Meilan shook her head again. “ _Amnesia_ , of all things,” she mused. “Is that why you were okay with going undercover as a slave?”

 _“His Grace,”_ Commander Broden intoned chillingly from the now-open Study Room door. _“Did what?”_

Oh god not again.

* * *

**A/N** : Duo, you gotta stop… the knights can only handle so much training…

 _Please be kind and **drop a comment and kudos!**_ **:)**


	9. Arc I, Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meilan joins the "tell the Duke nothing yet" team and Heero finally breaks.

**A/N** : Duo’s reputation continues to evolve and honestly I don’t think anyone really knows what it is anymore…

* * *

**Chapter 9**

**Dear Heero…**

* * *

“You have a letter from the provincial capital, Your Grace.”

Heero looked up, almost perturbed. “Only one?”

The messenger nodded, shrinking back a little at the resulting glare and timidly passing the envelope to Trowa. The tall brunet glanced over the letter, dismissing the courier and handing the letter to Heero. “It’s from Howard,” he said.

“So _that guy_ finally gave up the ridiculous farce?” Wufei snorted.

Heero wondered a bit at the disappointment he felt. Shoving back the confusing mesh of feelings into a little box, he opened Howard’s letter to scan the contents but was stopped when another courier came to stand at the tent entrance.

“There’s a package from the provincial capital for you, Your Grace,” he said, holding a small box. “And there’s also a letter for you, Master Chang.”

Wufei frowned but stood to receive the two items. His frown morphed into a scowl at the name on the package, and he stiffly set it down on Heero’s desk. “From the Duchess,” he said in disgust.

Heero stared at the package. _What?_

“Who’s the letter from?” Quatre asked, looking at the envelope Wufei held in interest.

“From my wife.”

“Oh, that’s rare. She’s finally forgiven you?” Meilan had been furious when Wufei told her to stay behind for the expedition. He’d ended up buying a property in the capital where she could stay because she virulently refused to stay in the same place as Duo without any of them there to act as a buffer. Wufei had been complaining for weeks afterwards, and Meilan had refused to write him letters because of it.

“We’ll see,” Wufei muttered, opening his letter.

Heero resolutely turned his eyes away from the package and back down to Howard’s letter. Nothing major about the financials for once, aside from some unexpected growth: Taketoyo and Sawara were doing particularly well, and apparently construction was now underway in Aoba-ku so that they could safely mine deeper into the iron cave deposits.

The following page filled him with dread – it was another incident report. Not only was there another portion written by Hilde, there was even a follow-up page from _Commander Broden_ regarding a change to the training regimen.

“…the governor of Ishigaki was found guilty of human trafficking,” Heero read aloud. Trowa and Quatre’s heads whipped around to stare at him in shock. “He’s been replaced, the mercenaries he hired have been executed, and he is currently being held in the provincial capital as the investigation is underway. The slave camps appear to be in both Armonia and Clark, so they’re holding off on executing him for now in case they need more information.”

It sounded like the situation was being handled well, but from Hilde’s report on the actual operation, it apparently hadn’t been that smooth in the beginning. Duo was involved – _again?!_ – and essentially lead the sting operation to recover the slaves being held by the governor and expose his crimes. Hilde had been a little vague on exactly _how_ Duo had done it but seemed to be bitterly recording the progression of Duo’s injuries.

Commander Broden was no less vague but more than made up for it in earnestness; the training regimen had changed significantly, and they even added additional skills. And there was even an additional team simply labeled as “Duchess Guard,” which Heero didn’t understand because Duo only ever needed a full escort when he left the confines of the estate, which was rare for him. He didn’t have a lot of love for the Yuy province after all.

Also, why did the Duchess Guard require so much intense training? Mikhail was the strongest knight they’d left behind to guard the duchy, and he was on every single rota for the Duchess Guard! Did Duo really require that much security?!

“Duo was injured again,” he reported to the room aloud.

“How, by breathing?” Trowa muttered.

“…Hilde said it was related to uncovering the slave trade in Ishigaki, but I don’t know why Duo was there too…” That was starting to feel like a common theme with these letters.

Setting aside Howard’s report, Heero pulled the package closer. Duo wouldn’t poison him, would he? Heero thought Duo may have considered it at some point, but he wouldn’t poison him via a package he clearly labeled with his own name. Duo wasn’t that stupid.

Almost reluctantly, Heero pulled off the wrapping to reveal a small wooden box. It wasn’t plain, but nor was it overly decorative, with a simple stenciled painting on the lid. It was a good choice to send to someone on an expedition, so that the box could be discarded without worry or sentimental value.

In fact, it was _too good_ a choice. Duo didn’t like plain things – he enjoyed showing off his wealth so much that Heero had thought he wouldn’t deign to use such plain wrapping. Maybe Duo didn’t want to waste good money on him?

Opening the lid, Heero stared at the contents in surprise.

“Oh, more pressed flowers!” Quatre said from over his shoulder. “It’s daisies this time?”

Heero glared back at him. Why didn’t any of them understand privacy?

Picking out the handful of delicately pressed daisies, Heero laid them out on the table before looking back into the box. An envelope with his name rested on top of what looked to be different goodies underneath; Heero set aside the letter for now, heart pounding.

There was a small white pouch filled with dried fruit and nuts, a local delicacy of the provincial capital that was popular to send to the soldiers fighting on the frontlines. There was also a small, glass bottle of an amber liquid; Heero pulled off the cork and took a small whiff – a smoky wood smell hit his nose. He pushed the cork back in, setting both the bottle and pouch on the table and pulling out the last item in the box.

It was much lighter than either of the previous two items, wrapped in tissue paper and thin. Heero pulled open the wrapper, revealing the nicely-folded cloth lain inside with the Yuy house’s Coat of Arms embroidered on it.

_A handkerchief?_

Heero unfolded it and held it up for a better look. In the corner of the House emblem, in small black stitching, were the letters ‘DMY’.

_Duo Maxwell-Yuy._

Quatre gasped behind him. “The Duchess--?!”

Trowa dropped the scroll he’d been holding as a guise to read over Wufei’s shoulder, and Wufei had his eyes locked on the handkerchief in shock as well.

The shock was only natural. Handkerchiefs were common gifts between lovers, spouses in particular; the embroidery done reflected the heart of the maker. Those who wanted to express romantic intentions would embroider small flowers, those in already committed relationships would embroider larger flowers or even animals, meant to symbolize a wish or goal for the coupling.

Married couples of the nobility would embroider the Coat of Arms. It was a statement of both loyalty and devotion, essentially claiming they were under the same house and had the same wish. The very sentiment was stronger than a declaration of love.

Heero dropped the handkerchief back into the box, ears burning. He tore open Duo’s letter, wanting some explanation for-

For any of it!!

_Dear Heero,_

_There’s a human limit to training, right? I swear your knights had reached it months ago when Commander Broden decided it wasn’t enough, but I just saw them trying to climb trees and running up the walls in full sets of armor. They’ve also decided to embrace acting lessons in case of future covert operations, and it’s making me nervous because now I’m pretty sure tailing me to the town market is a training mission._

_Oh, I’ve also mended my relationship with Lady Meilan. Her temper is very exciting, so I really enjoy having her at tea parties. Lady Angela said something about the ~~sca~~ scratch on my neck, and Meilan jumped in to ask if she wanted a matching one. I never knew you could threaten physical violence at tea parties, this will make things so much easier!_

_The duchy is doing well. I don’t know if you’ve heard yet, but Taketoyo’s started making prototype steamboats; they’ve been chugging along the coastline and they’re experimenting with how much weight they can carry. Melissa went to see them on her vacation, she said they go terribly fast. I’m really excited to go try one but I don’t think Hilde and Howard want me leaving the estate for now…_

_I included a new item sent from Sawara with this letter. It’s a new liquor, called whiskey; the flavor is much stronger than beer! You have to drink it with more moderation but I like the burn of it. Let me know what you think when you try it._

_I included some dried fruit and nuts, I heard they were your favorites. I wanted to send you some cakes too but I don’t think they’d keep well during the journey, so I’ll make sure to include them in your homecoming feast._

_I’ve also finished some embroidery for you. It’s not very big, and also not very good, but I’ll work on it! Please accept this for now, and I’ll give you an even better one on your return home._

_Winter is almost here. I like the colors of fall, it’s especially pretty here. I hope the leaves you see are as pretty as the ones back home, and that you keep warm._

_Stay safe._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Duo_

“I don’t understand,” Heero groaned, head bowed over the letter. “What’s going on with him?”

Quatre patted him consolingly on the back.

“That’s what I’d like to know too,” Wufei said.

Heero glanced over at him, but Wufei was glaring between the assortment of goods on Heero’s desk and his own letter from Meilan. He stood and moved over to Heero, slamming Meilan’s letter down in front of him.

_Husband,_

_I’ve moved back into the estate._

_The Duchess is very interesting now. I’m glad I stayed behind._

_Fight stronger, think harder._

_With Nataku’s Blessing,_

_Meilan_

“She complimented him?” Quatre marveled. To Meilan, “interesting” was the equivalent of being “awe-inspiring.” She may as well have sworn loyalty to the Duchess and been granted a knighthood.

What the hell was Duo doing? _And why didn’t anyone’s letters make sense anymore?!_

“I think…” Heero started, sounding unsure, even to himself. “I should…write Duo back.”

Maybe then he’ll figure out just what’s going on back home.

* * *

**A/N** : Yeesssssss…. Duo finally broke through Heero Shield Level One!! They're finally to actual letter-writing, instead of Duo one-sidedly throwing letters at Heero 😂

 _Please be kind and_ **_drop a comment and kudos!_ :)**


	10. Arc I, Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Everyone** : hoe don't do it  
>  **Duo** : [puts himself in danger]  
>  **Everyone** : _oh my god_

**A/N** : We’ve finally reached the last chapter I had written in advance. Let’s see how long this update speed lasts now lol

 _Warning for this chapter_ : someone gets their eye poked out (but not in too much gruesome detail). It is not a main character or even a named character either.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

* * *

The Sanc Kingdom’s religion had not been well-defined in the book. There had been references to a church where Relena married Heero in the final chapter, but aside from characters using the epithet for a deity in exclamation, there had been little description of it.

Threaded throughout the social norms, however, I could see bits and pieces of it. There was the “no divorce” mandate and cheating was frowned upon. (Although that had not stopped other-me.) Churches were in every major city, and smaller towns and villages offered at least a chapel as a place of worship; they collected donations from their patrons in order to maintain their buildings, although it was common for nobles and wealthy merchants to sponsor their local branches.

It was a little harder for me to pinpoint the actual religious ideology though. There was no physical representation of their deity; the chapel within the Yuy estate painted it as some unseen force, benevolent in nature, both omniscient and omnipresent. Much like their peerage titles, their deity used the name “God” but could be described as either male or female; it wasn’t unusual for the pronoun to switch from one to the other in religious texts.

The kingdom’s relationship to the church was also interesting. From what I’d learned about the middle ages in school, religion and the church were one of the driving forces at that time and were often intertwined, rulers deriving their authority from the church, and the church propped up by the state of the ruler.

Sanc’s religion was a lot more amorphous.

It was there, obviously, and church services were held during all the holidays as well. People could go in and out of the churches in town without hassle, offer up their prayers to the deity, but there was no set day to do so; you could go out to grab some groceries, make a quick stop to pray, then continue on home.

One thing this place’s religion _did_ have in common with some of Earth’s religions was that churches helped to run orphanages.

Medieval orphanages were…something else. They were subsidized in the Yuy province so a small portion of the fief’s budget went to the churches that ran them, but as inspections were still not common – it was hard to tell if the church actually used that money for their orphans. Children were kept until they were 14 years of age – this varied by duchy – and then they were sent off to work under apprenticeships.

For the Yuy duchy, they could work for the shops around town, such as blacksmiths or bakers, but it was common for them to join the militia. Soldiers could be male or female, although just to remind me that sexism still existed, it was a bit rare for the latter.

I’d learned that Lyle, one of my knights, was one such case of an orphan aged into the militia.

“I’m from the Blackwell orphanage, Your Grace,” he reported to me excitedly. Since I could no longer be trusted not to somehow injure myself just by existing, he was my guard during my afternoon garden stroll. Hilde was walking a few paces behind us because she had little trust in _either_ of us, but as long as I didn’t look back, I didn’t have to acknowledge her murder-eyes.

“When did you become a knight?” I asked.

“Oh, not until three years ago!” Lyle said. “I was a squire for 8 years before that, and a page for two years before then.”

I did the math instantly but still wanted it confirmed aloud. “How old were you when you became a page?”

“Twelve!”

_Heero what the fuck._

I had to remind myself child labor laws didn’t exist.

_…Yet._

I paused, then turned around to look at Hilde. “Hilde, how old am I?”

“22 years old, Your Grace.” She didn’t have to say it in _that_ tone, but I guess she was miffed about me not just sitting quietly in my room.

Also, holy shit, I became four years younger?

“I think my soul is older,” I told her.

Hilde looked at the autumn leaves boredly. “Is it?”

“Are you mad because I’m older than you, Your Grace?” Lyle asked sadly.

_Yes, you baby-faced bastard._

“No,” I lied, smiling at him. He perked up in relief. “I guess I was just surprised. What was the orphanage like?” Best change the subject before Hilde read my mind or something.

Lyle tilted his head in thought. “Fine, I guess? Back then, we’d just ended another war with Romefeller, so there had been an influx of orphans. The more rural towns can’t afford to keep that many so they send us up to the bigger cities, which is how I ended up at Blackwell,” he explained. “There was a roof over my head and food in my stomach, so I can’t complain. The sisters were strict but not cruel; they had their hands full with so many of us but they never gave someone a beating like you hear about sometimes. And my friends and I were complete hooligans back then, one time we…”

I smiled at him reminiscing, this one feeling a lot more sincere than my last. The Maxwell Church orphanage had been one of the few orphanages still operating within the U.S., the system having mostly moved over to foster care. Father Maxwell and Sister Helen still remained one of the best examples of family I’d ever had, even after I was moved into foster care after the fire.

I wonder if other-me would have ended up the way he did, if fire had taken his family long ago as well. Would the loss had taught him some form of empathy, would it have taught him to appreciate what he had in his husband and the people of the Yuy duchy? Or would nothing have changed at all?

I wonder if I would have ended up like him, if Father Maxwell and Sister Helen had survived.

“—and it’s actually pretty close too! I sometimes visit when I’m off,” Lyle was saying.

I resurfaced from my thoughts, pushed by a pique of curiosity. “Oh, I wonder if I can visit too…”

“Y-Your Grace wants to visit the orphanage?!” Lyle exclaimed in wonder.

I nodded, grinning. “Yeah! It sounds like some of our finest knights come from them as well, so—”

“Where is the orphanage?”

 _Holy shit--!!_ I whipped around to stare at Hilde, who had seemingly materialized beside me. “How are you that fast?!” I cried.

She ignored me. “The orphanage – where is it? If it’s out of town, Your Grace…” she trailed off, somehow sounding threatening despite her tone being rather bland. _Amazing as usual, Hilde._

“It’s in town, it’s in town!” Lyle jumped in. “It’s where I’m from, Miss Hilde! It’s close to the town square!”

I smiled at Hilde brilliantly. “See, Hilde? It’s close and Lyle goes there often—”

“I wouldn’t say _often_ —”

“ _He goes there often,_ so it’s perfectly safe,” I steamrolled over him. “I’ll just pop over there with Lyle, drop off some presents for the kids – nothing big.”

Hilde eyed me suspiciously. Well, she’s been eyeballing me suspiciously since I first got here, but now it was more with a _‘how can you endanger yourself now’_ vibe rather than the _‘what kind of sick, twisted game are you playing’_ vibe it had been.

“Mikhail will escort you,” she said.

Well… that’s better than Commander Broden, I guess…

* * *

“Why toys?” Meilan asked.

I took a different approach. “Why are you coming along too?”

“Because something exciting always happens when you leave the estate,” she admitted shamelessly. “So why toys and not money?”

“We’ve already donated to Blackwell, outside of the usual subsidy they receive from the fief,” I answered. Heero had made donations to all the orphanages in the provincial capital and ensured Howard would continue to do so in his absence, so I happily added some more money on top of it from my personal allowance.

“And since I’m visiting it, I can’t give them another donation without doing so for the other orphanages, or it could be see as preferential treatment,” I explained. This may be an innocuous visit on the surface, but it was also a little inspection so that I could see the quality of life granted to the children. That’s why I also had Lyle swear not to let the orphanage know ahead of time that I would be visiting. “The toys are just gifts for the kids. No one will pay them any mind.”

Meilan looked satisfied with this explanation, leaning back in her seat. It had been agreed ahead of time that my true identity of the duchess would be kept hidden, as there was always the chance one of the kids would see me in the town market and I didn’t want it getting back to my merchant connections. I would instead be visiting the orphanage under a pseudonym as a friend of Lyle’s, Lyle and Mikhail were off-duty knights making a social call, and Meilan was just…here. Taking up space in the carriage because she thirsted for adventure and also liked harassing me.

She’d even moved back into the Yuy estate to ensure I was never left to my own devices.

Our arrival at the orphanage was heralded by the excited cries of children calling out to Lyle, voices adorable and piping. Lyle, who had been riding shotgun on the carriage, hopped down to greet the kids as Mikhail helped both myself and Meilan out.

A nun – a woman who served under the banner of the church, signified by the wearing of a dark grey smock and matching headdress – looked at us in confusion, likely wondering why Lyle now came with his own entourage. We’d used the “commoner” carriage for this trip so she wouldn’t know who we were straight away.

“Sister Yvette, a good afternoon to you!” Lyle greeted her happily, small children hanging off him like limpets. “I’ve come with some friends today – they brought toys for the kids.”

The kids whooped and hollered, rushing towards the carriage in a miniature stampede. Meilan flinched back but I moved forward to intercept, grinning widely. “Alright, alright, no shoving! Line up now, youngest at the front, oldest at the back! If there are any more kids inside, go get ‘em and bring ‘em here!”

The older kids rushed to comply, realizing no one was getting anything until I was sure everyone was present. Lyle stepped away to speak with Sister Yvette, so I let him handle that as Mikhail helped the kids line up and Meilan pretended to not be hiding behind me, shuffling through the toys.

Lyle had made recommendations, and pulling from my own time at the orphanage, we gathered various things for the kids to play with: colored blocks and balls for the youngest kids, dolls and tin knights for the older ones, as well as stick-horses and model boats and wooden tops. I corralled Meilan into helping me pass them out, Lyle and Sister Yvette keeping the kids orderly as Mikhail disappeared around the building.

Sister Yvette was one of three nuns who helped run the orphanage; the head sister was Sister Yukihana, who was busy working on dinner inside, and the other caretaker, Sister Grace, was currently visiting the church that Blackwell was affiliated with to pick up their stipend.

Blackwell Orphanage would be considered shabby by modern standards, but by medieval standards it was decent. The building itself was plain and two-story, the ground floor holding the kitchen, communal eating area, the study area (where the children were taught reading and writing by the hardworking nuns), and a small chapel. The upstairs was dedicated entirely to their sleeping areas, the children split into groups and assigned to a room. The nuns also shared one bedroom, and they had an outhouse in the back hidden from the view of the street.

Bathing in the Sanc Kingdom was different from how it had been in the medieval age back on Earth. As the Duchess, I had my own private bath and could wash daily; for commoners like these kids and their caretakers, they would use a pail or wash basin to essentially sponge bath themselves into cleanness, or go to a neighborhood bathhouse once a month to fully submerge themselves in water.

I was secretly very glad for this. If everyone smelled as bad as my high school history books described them to have, I’m not sure I’d ever leave my room.

Sister Grace returned from her errands, a handful of the older orphan kids in tow, and she helped to wrangle everyone together to get the dinner passed out. I felt bad about giving them extra mouths to feed, and then felt worse when I tasted what they actually ate on a daily basis (extremely hard to chew bread, although the potato soup wasn’t that bad, if a bit bland), even though Lyle assured me this was the good stuff.

I don’t know what I needed to commercialize to improve this, but I needed to commercialize _something_. The state of my citizens’ taste buds depended on it.

Leaving Lyle and the others to finish eating, I took my bowl into the kitchen where a couple of the older kids were washing the dishes. These were the same ones who had been with Sister Grace on her errand run, so I assumed that much like how the Maxwell Church had operated back home, Blackwell also had older kids help out with the chores and day-to-day living.

“I’ll help too,” I offered.

The girl, a freckled redhead with close-cropped hair, shook her head. “Sister Yuki says guests don’t do the washin’,” she told me. “’S bad manners, ya see.”

I obediently handed over my bowl. “Alright, that’s fair,” I laughed. “I suppose I’ll have to do the washin’ when you all eat dinner at my place then.”

“That at the knight’s barracks?” she asked me inquisitively. “Big brother Lyle’s a knight, ya see.”

“You’se ain’t a knight though, are ya?” the boy, who had been very quiet, suddenly piped up.

The girl frowned. “What ya mean, Connor?”

“Look at ‘im,” Connor said, motioning to just all of me. Wow. “He probably couldn’t even lift a sack o’ dinner ‘tatoes!” _Wow_.

“That lady could,” Freckles conceded, obviously referring to Meilan. “I saw her muscles when she was carryin’ Jax around. She’s gotta be a knight, ya see.”

Connor nodded in agreement with her, but then motioned to me again. “But he’s not, right?” He looked back to me, and I valiantly smothered my insulted expression before he could see it. “You’se a knight’s dandy?”

“I thought a dandy was only for nobles,” I said. That’s what Hilde and Lady Aurora had said, anyway.

Connor shrugged. “That’s those _proper_ dandies,” he told me haughtily, seemingly proud he was teaching me something. Also, did he just imply I was an _improper_ dandy then? “Commonfolks got dandies too, right? Big bro Hugh married a dandy.”

“Mister Roman’s not a _dandy_ -dandy,” Freckles corrected him. “He’s just pretty, dummy!”

“Well, what about Rouge?”

“The butcher’s son? He’s seeing one of the soldiers still at the Duke’s house, innit he?”

Oh my god, why am I suddenly here for a gossip session. “Which soldier?” I asked, living my best life.

Freckles frowned. “Think his name’s Geralt? Big guy, he looks like he could carry five sacks o’ dinner ‘tatoes, ya see.” Why was that the unit of measurement here?!

“Wait, so are you’se a dandy, mister?” Connor asked me, then with wider eyes and a quieter voice, continued with, “Are you’se Big bro Lyle’s dandy?”

Horror flashed over my face. “No!”

Connor looked relieved. “Okay, good,” he sighed. _WOW_.

“Connor’s got a crush on Big bro Lyle,” Freckles whispered to me conspiratorially. “That’s why he keeps going on about dandies, ya see.”

Connor blushed hotly. “Well you’se got a crush on Daigo!”

This was too much information at once!! “Whose Daigo?”

“Daigo’s from the Bluefield orphanage,” Connor rushed out, clearly just not wanting me to dwell on his crush on Lyle and more than happy to throw Freckles under the bus. “Lianna thinks the sun shines outta his ass.”

“I do not!” Freckles – Lianna – screeched.

“You’se were all over him earlier,” Connor said, then turned to me. “You’se shoulda seen her when we were with Sister Grace earlier. Daigo was there with the nun from Bluefield too, and Lianna went all gooey-eyed—”

“I wasn’t gooey-eyed!” Lianna retorted. “Didn’t ya see the shiner on his face? I felt bad for him!”

I blinked in surprise. “Where’d he get the shiner from? Is he an apprentice?” Lianna looked like she was maybe 13, so if Daigo was there with a nun, he couldn’t be much older.

“Nah, it’s from the sisters who run Bluefield,” Connor replied.

“Daigo didn’t deserve it!” Lianna said vehemently. “They’re always hitting the kids there, ya see! Daigo stopped ‘em from hurting one of the smaller kids – they can’t take it, they weigh less than a sack o’ dinner ‘tatoes! So they hurt Daigo too!”

A lump of dry ice settled in the pit of my stomach. “That’s not right,” I agreed, and Lianna nodded emphatically. “Do you hear about things like that happening at any of the other orphanages?”

Connor shrugged again. “We’re lucky here, ‘cause the Sisters are really nice, even if they don’t let us play swordfight,” he told me. “And Hollingshead sounds ‘bout the same as us. Oh, I heard the kids at Summerborn don’t get reading lessons like we’s do, but Bluefield’s the worst o’ the worst for us kids.”

Considering basic literacy was required in the Yuy duchy, Summerborn should have been teaching their kids as well, but it would have to be checked to see if this was the result of not having enough resources. I was frankly amazed the sisters at Blackwell could teach their kids, because it looked like they had more than enough to do in just keeping them from killing each other.

Bluefield, on the other hand, seemed like an urgent issue.

* * *

“Well, miraculously, it looks like you managed to somehow not endanger yourself while outside the estate walls,” Meilan smirked at me from her seat opposite in the carriage. We were now on our way back to the estate after bidding the kids and their caretakers farewell, although I had snuck Lyle some coin to pass on to the sisters, as payment for the dinner they let us have there. They refused it, so I made Lyle promise to buy some spices from the next town market and bring it to them.

“I do go to the town market regularly, you know,” I felt compelled to defend myself. “I never nearly died there either.”

Meilan knocked twice on the wooden frame of the carriage. Mikhail, seated in the driver’s seat directly behind me and having heard everything through the small window, knocked twice against his wooden seat as well. Lyle knocked twice on the roof.

_These assholes._

“You were in the kitchen for awhile too,” Meilan added. “Were you actually washing dishes?”

“I tried, but they wouldn’t let me.” I ignored Lyle’s sigh of relief in the back. “I was just talking with the kids there. They were teaching me a lot. I didn’t know there were non-noble dandies.”

Meilan rose an eyebrow. “That’s because there aren’t. Dandies can only be nobles, meant exclusively for other nobles,” she said.

“But they said the son of the butcher was dating one of our soldiers, a guy named Geralt?”

“Neither of them is a dandy, Your Grace,” Meilan said. “They’re just gay.”

_So what am I, Platinum Gay?!_

“Were you just listening to the kids’ gossip?” Meilan asked, smirk widening.

I crossed my arms, faux-indignant. “I’ll have you know I learned a lot of good things! The first of which is that Geralt looks like he can carry at least 5 bags of dinner potatoes,” I said with as much authority as I could muster.

Outside, Mikhail burst out laughing.

“And Connor – the kid washing dishes – has a big crush on our Lyle here.”

Mikhail’s laughter got louder, punctuated by Lyle futilely batting at his side. I hoped Mikhail had a good grip on the reigns because I didn’t fancy dying in a carriage accident after all this.

“Hard at work as the duchess, I see,” Meilan yawned.

I dropped the act, replacing the faux-intimidating expression with a more somber one. “There was something else, but I want to get back to the estate and check the financial statements first to be sure,” I admitted.

My tone change caused Meilan to straighten, her eyes narrowing. “What is it? Something about Blackwell?”

“No, not Blackwell. It was about some of the other orphanages,” I said.

Nothing wrong with another little undercover inspection, is there?

* * *

Alright, so I admit it – this wasn’t going well.

It hadn’t taken long to research Bluefield and organize an inspection team for it. It took a bit longer to convince them that _I_ should be part of the inspection team, but I think they acquiesced because the danger was limited – after all, they were just nuns who beat up those smaller and weaker than them, how much danger could they pose to a guy flanked by two knights, a martial artist, and whatever the hell Hilde was?

The answer was that they could pose a _lot_ of danger and that I probably did have some kind of animal magnetism, except instead of attracting potential mates I attracted dangerous situations.

It hadn’t _started_ bad, but in that case, I suppose I should have seen it coming. There was no way novel-logic would let me get away unscathed.

We had reached the orphanage without much issue, Mikhail announcing our purpose; it was considered semi-incognito, only my identity being kept hidden. It hadn’t taken long to assess the situation with the kids, they had all the markers of child abuse, plain as day on their bruised and battered bodies.

There was the already the rampant child abuse going around the place, and with just a glimpse of the interior and state of their toys and study materials, I could add embezzlement and criminal mismanagement. I imagine the food situation wouldn’t be too good either, but I hadn’t gotten that far before the other two nuns running the place kicked up a fuss and both Mikhail and Berion had gone to handle them, while Meilan inspected the upstairs to track down the head nun.

Hilde and I had been left to corral the children outside. That’s when I noticed Daigo, little Lianna’s crush, whose eyes were sweeping over the group of children as if mentally tallying them up, his dark eyes widening when the numbers came up short. He took off to go around to the back of the house and I went after him because I didn’t know what he was up to at the time. I think Hilde had been too distracted with keeping the younger kids calm to notice us slipping away, otherwise I’d have her murder-eyes on me right now.

Daigo and I slipped around the back, following a well-worn dirt trail further into the forested area, as Bluefield sat near the edge of town. _“The twins and Maria are missing,”_ Daigo had informed me when I’d finally reached out to him. I could understand why he decided to go find them himself instead of asking the knights to do it – he probably didn’t have a lot of trust in adults, authority figures in particular. I understood that grudge well. He refused to come back with me to get extra help either, and I wasn’t just going to leave him and go back by myself, so we ended up searching together.

Daigo hadn’t been off the mark, because we _did_ find Maria – a little 4-year-old girl – and her twin brothers, who I imagined hadn’t taken kindly to their sister being kidnapped by the head nun holding her. The twins had been tied up and tugged along by a broad-shouldered man, the head nun pulling Mary behind them by one arm. I guess they intended to keep the kids as hostages in case they were found out, or keep them until they ran into smugglers so they could sell them off for more coin.

“Sister Bethel!” Daigo cried out in horror, ruining the only thing we had going for us – the element of surprise. _Kids these days, honestly…_

I wish I could say I quickly overpowered them. They were a medieval middle-aged couple, I could have easily taken them down if it had been _my_ body. Unfortunately, my body was likely buried 6 feet underground after a truck made me roadkill - I had to make do with _this_ body.

So I tackled the man holding on to the twins. He didn’t go down because he was a piece of shit weighing maybe twice my body weight, but he did let go of the rope with a loud groan as my shoulder met his solar plexus. This managed to stun him only momentarily, as he then pushed me back and I barely caught myself from falling to the ground.

Daigo took a page from my book and tackled the corrupt head nun, except he was far more successful in knocking her down and the little girl yanked herself free.

“Go back, go back!” Daigo yelled at the three kids. “Get the knights!”

I guess Daigo was the authority figure to these munchkins, as the twins grabbed their sister and bolted back. That was great, but I really wished Daigo had gone with them because I hated to admit it, but I didn’t think I could hold off the man for long.

The man then pulled out a hatchet from behind his back.

Alright, looks like my chances of survival were plummeting. “Daigo, _run!”_ I yelled at him, rushing towards the man again. Look, it wasn’t a _good_ plan – it was hardly a ‘plan’ at all – but I was just really focused on Daigo not being killed. Come on, book, you can’t just kill a kid!!

Burning pain lanced up my arm as the man swiped my shoulder, a deadly strike I had barely managed to dodge. He had probably expected me to recoil from the injury, but my head was in the right space now for a fight and I only had one burning focus: make sure Daigo lives.

_“Mr. Doe, look out--!”_

Something hard knocked into my side; Sister Bethel had struck out at me with - I glanced down – a wooden pole?

Two-on-one and they were both armed? _This book really wanted me dead, huh?_

Unfortunately for the book, I am one very stubborn asshole. I may not have had strength but at least I had speed: I ran forward again, dodging the man’s broad swipe at me and aiming a kick at his kneecap. He let out a pained yelp and keeled over, so I took the opportunity to jam a finger into his eye.

It was the grossest thing I’d ever felt. I recoiled pretty quickly after that, flinching at the wet _pop!_ sound it made when I pulled it out. The man screamed in pain, waving his machete wildly, but Daigo came in clutch, brandishing his own weapon: a thick tree branch. With narrow-eyed determination, the kid swung at the man’s head and knocked him to the ground.

Sister Bethel screeched in outrage, turning her wooden pole on Daigo, but I just tackled her down, adrenaline pumping hard enough that it muffled the mind-numbing pain that shot up from my arm. We rolled across the ground, Bethel having given up on her wooden pole in order to scratch at any available patch of my skin, but I managed to pin her down and plant my left fist straight into her face.

Ugh. I can’t believe I just punched a nun…

At least she was unconscious now. Either my (secret) weight training was paying off, or she was just considerably weaker than the former governor of Ishigaki. I looked up to check on Daigo but he was handily tying up the man with the leftover ropes; I assumed he must have kept hitting the man in the head with his weapon of choice because the head definitely looked more battered than it had when Daigo first struck him.

“If there’s any rope left, tie up the Sister here as well,” I heaved out.

Daigo nodded in compliance, tying up the head nun before finally glancing over at me and freezing. I probably looked as bad as I felt, and as the adrenaline was wearing off, I was starting to feel _a lot._ _Oww…._

“So,” I started, faltering a bit as another white-hot bolt of pain hit me. “ _So_ , I think I’ll probably be considered grounded for the foreseeable future.”

Daigo frowned, helping me up so I could limp over to a nearby tree to rest against. He was a very good kid, I think around 12 years in age, so I felt really bad about this no doubt traumatizing experience I was putting him through.

“That’s not so bad, I guess. I could work on my embroidery,” I mused. I experimentally flexed my foot – ow, ow, nope, it still hurt. Was pain tolerance physical or psychological? I don’t think a sprained ankle would keep me down like this, at least not back in NYC, so I felt totally justified blaming it on the body of other-me.

“Are you gonna die?” Daigo asked me, looking up at me with pitifully wide eyes.

I stared back at him, trying to look very strong. I don’t know how well I managed since I was slouched against a tree trunk and definitely looked the worse for wear, but we do what we must. “No, Daigo, I’m not gonna die from these scratches,” I told him bravely.

“You’re bleeding,” he pointed to the sluggishly oozing slash on my arm, lower lip wobbling.

I turned my gaze to look past his shoulder; there was a small trail of blood from where I’d originally lain to where I now sat. “Just a scratch,” I choked out.

“Your ankle is swellin’ up.”

Damn, maybe this kid should grow up to be a doctor or something. He sure seemed all too happy to list out everything wrong with me. Any other kid in this situation should just be going with my flow, not thinking about how to hospitalize me.

I don’t know if I was relieved or terrified by the sight of Mikhail and the others heading towards us from the direction of the orphanage. The sight of Hilde’s face, just visible past Mikhail’s shoulders, was inching me more to the latter.

“ _Your Grace--!”_

Daigo glanced back at me, eyes impossibly wider. “ _’Your Grace’_?” he echoed, with a tone full of…something. Maybe fear, but that could just be my emotions coloring it.

They finally reached our messy portion of the forest trail, Berion grabbing the two tied-up adults and throwing them to the side like they were garbage bags that had gotten in the way. Both Mikhail and Hilde had knelt beside me, Meilan hovering just behind them.

“It just looks bad,” I tried to reassure them.

This got me gritted teeth and murder-eyes. Mikhail was making quick work of my sleeve in order to better evaluate the wound on my arm, Hilde was tearing at her dress to make an impromptu bandage in a motion that was starting to look very practiced, and Meilan was glaring at me as if my injuries personally offended her.

“You’re _bleeding_ ,” Meilan bit out.

“That could be anyone’s blood trail.”

“The blood is yours,” Daigo piped up, the turncoat.

Hilde bandaged up my arm as Mikhail tentatively evaluated my swollen ankle, deeming it to be sprained as well. Meilan had pulled Daigo away so that we had some room, lightly patting him on the head in an awkwardly soothing way. I should probably tell her that treating kids like particularly intelligent pets was not the way to go.

“Mr. Doe is the Duchess, isn’t he?” Daigo said, lower lip wobbling dangerously. “It’s my fault he got injured – I should have told the knights instead of goin’ after Maria and the twins myself!”

Gah, what an unexpected blow to my conscience!

Meilan continued patting him on the head. “No, it’s not your fault,” she told him, in that even and intense way of her’s that could make anyone believe anything. _That’s my girl!_ “The Duchess was the one who foolishly put himself in danger. Again.” _This bitch!_

“Yes. It’s almost like the Duchess enjoys being nearly killed every other day,” Hilde spoke up, with the same even tone, icicles hanging on every word. 

Daigo turned puppy eyes on me. “Does the Duchess do things like this all the time?”

“No—”

“ _YES_ ,” Meilan, Hilde, Mikhail, and even fucking Berion chorused.

Four-on-one? And they got a puppy-eyed kid to boot? I had no chance of winning so I just shut up.

* * *

Being put on mandatory bedrest gave me a lot of time to do paperwork. I wasn’t necessarily excited about this, but so far no one was forgiving me for adding another scar to my collection so I decided to be a good little dandy and stay put where they could easily see me.

This also gave me the time to look more into how church donations and sponsorships worked, because I didn’t think a church-sponsored orphanage that beat its kids would have gone unnoticed, especially if a bunch of other kids noticed it was going down. Some adults and people in power had to have seen what was happening in Bluefield, and I wanted to know why no one had done anything about it.

I think in the actual middle ages, when ‘childhood’ wasn’t really a thing and neither were ‘children’s rights’, the notion of child abuse probably wasn’t even considered. However, this was the idealized form of medieval times in a romance novel, and child abuse was most definitely frowned upon, and in the case of the Sanc Kingdom, _illegal_.

So now I had to figure out who knew what, weed out the ones who turned the other way when Daigo and his friends were getting beat, and clean up the mess the ones in power had made. I thought this would have required some personal legwork, but the moment I stepped outside of the walls of the estate, I had five knights falling in step with me.

I was forced to give it up when Commander Broden approached, already making notes on how to improve the knights’ training regimen and wanting to show me.

I had never wanted to apologize to my guards so badly.

* * *

“Have you ever heard of _delegation?”_ Meilan had asked me scornfully from across the dessert-laden table. It’d been a week since my little adventure and subsequent house arrest, so I’d forced her to have a tea party with me out of spite. She was stabbing her slice of mont blanc with vicious force. Come to think of it, I think we both disliked sweets…

“Delegate what to who?” I asked blankly.

“You want to investigate the orphanages and how they’re managed, right?” she said. This was a bit creepy, because I don’t remember actually telling her that. She better not be taking one of those Duchess-stalking courses Commander Broden had developed in his latest training zeal. “You have an entire estate full of fully-trained knights and soldiers, whose skills range from assault to spying. Why don’t you try _using_ _them?”_

I frowned. “But only Heero can give commands to the army,” I pointed out.

“The Duke is out on an expedition,” Meilan dismissed. “Command falls to Commander Broden. The army serves the people of the Sanc Kingdom, and last I checked, the provincial capital’s orphans are citizens of Sanc.”

I stared at her in awe. Was she telling me to exploit a fucking _loophole_ so I could order around the Yuy militia?

“Also, if you don’t distract them with something soon, I fear they’ll start a new training regimen that requires they fight bears with their bare hands.”

_Commander Broden, what are you doing!!_

* * *

By the time the slash on my arm had healed closed and was nothing more than a brush of dark red on pinched skin, Mikhail was reporting to me what the soldiers had found about the state of the church-run orphanages. It wasn’t as bad as I had feared; there had been negligence that resulted in the ongoing abuse of the Bluefield orphans on part of some of the clergy, but this seemed to be the result of ignorance and mismanagement on behalf of the overseers, rather than intentional malice.

This saved me from having to execute clergy members because I could only imagine how bad that would have looked to the townsfolk. What I did end up doing was strong-arming the churches into dismissing the most egregious cases: the overseers of Bluefield orphanage were demoted, assigned to more rural locations and no longer allowed to manage orphanages; the nuns that had run Bluefield were dismissed and excommunicated, and banished from the provincial capital; the head nun and her lover (who was now one-eyed) were excommunicated as well, but they were locked away within the provincial jail on account of having assaulted and attempting to murder the Duchess.

There was also the smaller matter of the Summerborn orphanage, which had been reported to not be teaching their kids to read and write. This was not the result of negligence, but rather a lack of resources; the three nuns taking care of the orphanage simply did not have the same skill level as the nuns of Blackwell, and thus didn’t have the time or energy to teach their kids.

This boiled down to a lack of funding and resources, which meant it became an issue of the duchy as well.

The problem was that even though we were considered sponsors of the churches within the provincial capital, that didn’t give us right to see where that sponsorship money went. We assumed it went to maintaining the church and their affiliated orphanages, but exact amounts and what it was spent on was left largely unknown. A church could receive a large amount of money and only spend 0.01% on their orphans, and no one could say anything about it. The only known financials were the donations paid specifically to the orphanage itself, but those were given at the discretion of the donor and usually not a recurring subsidy.

I think I had a solution for this, but it wasn’t an easy or quick fix.

“Howard… You mentioned before that, since the Duke is away, I am the acting lord of the province,” I began, chin resting on steepled fingers. “And that I can manage things up to a certain point.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“One point being large expenditures.”

Howard’s gaze was very steady. “That is correct, Your Grace.”

“…what is considered a large expenditure?”

“May I ask what your plan is?” Howard asked politely. He was surprisingly understanding in tone, rather than replying with the wariness I had expected. “If you could let me know the general idea, I would be able to figure out the estimated expenditure.”

That wouldn’t be necessary because I’d already calculated the estimated cost; well, me and my small army of accountants did. _(Heero, give me back Master Winner!!)_ Instead of explaining that, I pushed a thick folder across the desk at him, which he dutifully took. I watched silently as he flipped it open and regarded the first page with wide eyes.

“…You want to put the orphanages under the control of the duchy?”

I nodded grimly. The reason we couldn’t find out how much of the money we sent to the churches was going to the orphanages was because it was mired in bureaucratic red tape and, even more stifling, religious traditions. Even if the regular layperson wasn’t considered devoutly religious, questioning the church was still considered a bad idea.

If I didn’t want to question the church’s handling of the orphanage situation, then I had to take the church out of it. The only way to do that was to put the management and funding of orphanages in the hands of the duchy – namely, well, _us_.

Essentially, I was gonna state-run the shit out of it.

It wasn’t as simple as it sounded though. It was more than just maintaining the properties and keeping the children warm and fed; we had to educate them, we had to ensure there was enough staff to take care of them, we had to work out when and how they aged out. Churches used their connections with the local populace to find the kids jobs as apprentices when they aged out, and if those connections somehow fell through, sent them off – either to the military or to the slums. Just letting the kids age out without some kind of pathway program was only guaranteed to increase our slum population.

“It’s a significant undertaking,” Howard allowed. “And one that I fear neither you nor I have the power to take. We may have to wait for the Duke’s return to get approval for it.”

I expected as much, to be honest.

“But,” he continued. “Please give me a day to read through this thoroughly. I’d like to see if any adjustments could be made, as well as if I have any recommendations. If there are any smaller changes we could enact right away, we could start with those and approach the Duke with the bulk of it once he has returned.”

Howard closed the folder with a snap. “I do not mean to put this off, Your Grace, but this is a vast change that I do not feel comfortable addressing through only letters. And I would like to have every little part planned out, researched to the very finest detail so he understands just how serious we are about this.”

“…‘We’? So you approve?” I grinned.

Howard grinned back. “It’s a good idea,” he said. “Very ambitious and overwhelming…but good.”

…Why did I get the feeling that I _just now_ got Howard’s stamp of approval?

* * *

**A/N** : Oh Duo’s got the Butler’s stamp of approval now… He’s really working his way up :’)

 _Please be kind and **drop a comment and kudos!**_ **:)**


	11. Arc I, Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo receives two letters. 
> 
> Lives are threatened.

**A/N** : Thanks for waiting!

* * *

**Chapter 11**

* * *

Now that I was fully healed from my jaunt of vigilantism, I was finally allowed to do the one thing I’d been asking about for months: physical training.

I think it was the incident at Bluefield orphanage that tipped the scale in my favor; they finally realized they couldn’t possibly defend me 24 hours a day, 7 days a week without one of us finally snapping. (Hilde was _definitely_ starting to look like she was very close to building a guillotine.) Physical training would at least give me some minimal way to defend myself, although I did have to name drop Heero to get them fully convinced to my side.

 _‘Shouldn’t the husband of the strongest and most renown general of Sanc be able to defend himself?’_ I’d argued. I made a mental note to apologize to Relena later for the precedent.

I’d been allotted one hour of daily training every day, with the exception of Tuesdays and Thursdays when I would be allowed to train for up to three hours if so desired. Commander Broden had to be talked down from personally training me – “You’re the Acting Commander, you have more important things to do!” – and my personal guards were exempt as they were considered to be on duty when in my presence, so I was passed off to a trusted knight who could oversee my basic training.

The bad thing was: I sucked.

More accurately, this body sucked. It was obvious I’d never done anything more strenuous than a leisurely stroll – I could barely finish the 5 laps I’d been set to run around the training grounds. I’d been doing push-ups and sit-ups late at night prior to this, but I couldn’t even do the standard soldier’s amount of 50 for each, and my pull-ups were just embarrassing.

The good thing was: I finally met Geralt, the no. 1 popular gossip topic for all market-savvy orphans.

Laid out on the ground after finishing my last attempted set of sit-ups, I stared balefully at his burly form. I bet his punches could knock someone out in one go. Why the hell was he so jacked? What does Heero feed these guys, all the protein in the province?

“Why did you make him do the full training warm-up?!” Mikhail demanded.

Geralt was looking down at me in bewilderment; for a guy the size of an ox, he was more reminiscent of a giant puppy. “I didn’t,” he whimpered. “I told him to start with running laps today…”

Mikhail didn’t even look surprised. I felt partially offended but was too winded to defend myself.

“Your Grace, what are you going to do if you get as muscled as this guy?” Mikhail asked me, jerking a finger in Geralt’s direction.

I glared at him in defiance. “Carry five sacks of dinner potatoes, I guess,” I replied sullenly.

Mikhail turned away to better smother his laughter. Geralt just looked at me in confusion. “You…You help out at the kitchen too, Your Grace?” he asked timidly.

God, it was like looking at a puppy and a bear cub rolled into one. “I suggest menu items,” I corrected him mildly, sitting up with a sigh. “I’m not allowed to help out in the kitchen anymore because Chef Morris is the enemy of innovation.”

“You exploded a pig rump, Your Grace.”

“I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life,” I told Mikhail, unwilling to elaborate on my silent war on pig’s feet. How was I supposed to know how medieval ovens worked, or what oil was used where, or that flour was so flammable?

That did remind me though – I glanced over at Geralt. “Speaking of meat,” I grinned. “How’s your romance going with the butcher’s son, Geralt?”

Geralt flushed bright red. _Bullseye!_ “Y-Your Grace?”

“His name’s Rouge, right?” I continued on blithely. Lianna and Connor were going to be eating this interaction out of the palm of my hand. “Is that how you got so built? Your lover feeding you the best cut of steaks?”

Geralt flailed in answer. “I-I don’t—I mean, yes, his name is Rouge—how did the Duchess know?!”

“Friend of a friend,” I smirked.

Mikhail snorted. I kicked his shin without ever breaking eye contact with a flustered Geralt.

“H-He doesn’t feed me the best cuts,” Geralt mumbled. “But he does cook very well…”

 _Cute~_ Maybe I’d go visit the butcher’s son the next time I go down to the town market. I had to find new and interesting ways to amuse myself nowadays since TV wasn’t a thing. Maybe I’d grab Lianna and Connor from the orphanage too so we could all have front-row seats to the blossoming daytime romcom that was Geralt & the Butcher Faux-Dandy.

Satisfied that my teasing meant Geralt would be conscious of his lover’s every approach, I returned back to the estate to rinse off the accumulated sweat. Hilde was naturally there to help me, looking only vaguely annoyed which was a nice improvement from her initial displeasure when I’d first proposed the idea of training. Maybe I could finally start getting a full night's rest instead of planning ways to avoid Hilde's murder-eyes, the Silent Persecution - You Aggravate Me Edition.

Only when I was scrubbed down and looking very much like the cleanest duchess to ever dandy was I allowed to be seen by Howard, who was waiting in the corridor outside my bedroom with a silver tray in hand. That was already plenty strange for Howard, as most things were served to me by maids, but stranger still was that it was an envelope laid out on his platter.

Also contrary to his usual amiable disposition, Howard looked very solemn.

My gut clenched. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Is Heero okay?”

There’s no way Heero could have died – he was the main love interest! I don’t remember any mentions of major injuries in his past before meeting Relena either; Heero was literally a flawless soldier. From the way the book described him, it was like fighting a living tank with the skills of a ninja. I couldn’t imagine anyone getting the drop on a ninja tank.

Surprise flickered over Howard’s face, but he shook his head in denial. “No, the Duke is fine,” he told me. “This…is a letter for you.”

I took the proffered item in curiosity, wondering what about it got Howard riled up. Hilde, standing next to me, tensed as the name on the envelope revealed its sender.

“Trant…Clark?” I read aloud.

…Nothing came to mind. He couldn’t have been a significant character in the book then.

I looked over at my two shadows: Howard had gone back to his solemn expression, Hilde was now sporting carefully-cultivated apathy.

“I’m guessing…this isn’t a good thing?” I asked. “Who is he?”

He shared the same surname as one of the provinces in Sanc; the Clark viscounty was south of the Yuy domain, and was the only province aside from ours to share a border with Romefeller. If the ‘Clark’ surname wasn’t common, then perhaps this Trant Clark was a relative of Heero’s (still unknown) mother, Aoi Clark?

Hilde looked torn, which was an interesting expression for her; it was like someone trying to decide if they’d rather cut off a hand or a foot. “He is the third son of Count Clark, Your Grace,” she finally managed out.

“Is he a dandy too then?” I asked brightly. Dandies unite!

 _“No,”_ Howard and Hilde said in a very terrifying unison.

“Oh.” Would I ever get to meet another dandy? I was starting to feel like an endangered species…

Hilde shook her head. “Your Grace, pardon my asking, but you don’t…remember him? At all?”

I tried to make a visible effort in wracking my memories. Honestly, aside from his last name, nothing about Trant Clark came to mind. I could even remember mentions of minor characters like myself and Meilan, who’d both died prior to the novel, so if Trant Clark had been mentioned too – I should have remembered it!

“Sorry, I don’t,” I admitted. As a duke family, we outranked him, but if he was super politically important, I didn’t want to mess it up for Heero. He had enough messes to clean up without me making even more.

“Your Grace,” Hilde began, trading an uncomfortable look with Howard. “Trant Clark is…was…one of your lovers.”

…

…well, _fuck_.

* * *

Trant Clark was unexpected.

The damage done by other-me to the finances of the estate had been my most pressing concern since I first arrived here. As I didn’t have the same personality as other-me, the cruelties done to the staff and to Heero would have to be remedied with both time and exposure; I got along well with the estate staff now, including the knights, and had even formed connections with the people of the duchy outside of the estate walls. As Heero hadn’t returned yet, there was not much I could do for him outside of the occasional letter sent to let him know I wasn’t bullying people anymore, so that was a definitive work in progress.

I thought the issue with other-me’s two affairs could just be ignored. I didn’t know the specifics – were the affairs more like flings, or were they more like actual lovers? Had other-me seen his affairs continuously, or was it more like ‘when the mood strikes’ sort of thing? How far did they get, how often and where did they meet, what was their relationship even like?

I’d thought blatantly ignoring them was the best option. I didn’t know who they were, Hilde never looked inclined to actually telling me, and it’s not like they needed a clean break-up anyway right? I’m _married_ , for god’s sake!

It turns out I couldn’t ignore at least one of them – Trant Clark was a goddamn noble. I guess that would make sense for the superficial other-me; if he couldn’t stand Heero having commoner blood, it’s not like he’d sleep around with another commoner. Points for consistency I guess.

It was abundantly clear that I had had no idea who Trant Clark was or that I’d had an affair with him, but with the arrival of his letter clearly spelling out his intention to come to the provincial capital to see me, I couldn’t just pretend not to see it. (I’d asked; Hilde shot the idea down.) This led into a little roundtable debate with the staff members I trusted most: Hilde, Howard, Mikhail, and Meilan. They’d all been remarkably calm about it, but I guess other-me’s affairs were public knowledge to most of the estate staff and I’d made it clear I had no intention of rekindling the romance.

“We could kill him?” Meilan suggested. Her every first plan was murder, it was starting to make me wonder what the real reasons were for Master Chang to make her stay behind here.

“Killing the son of a count would invite trouble,” Howard stated.

Meilan would not be stopped. “Kill him and take over the Clark province.”

I sighed, “That’s just another war. Heero and the others have been fighting on an expedition for over a year now – I don’t want them to come back home only to fight their neighbor.”

 _“Your Grace,”_ Howard beamed at me, obviously touched by my consideration for not launching us into another war despite it being started because of "my" transgressions. I made a mental note to start checking what Howard is drinking; I'm pretty sure he wasn't slipping whiskey into his teacup, but maybe he was sneakier than I thought.

“Don’t you miss Master Chang anyway?” I asked, glancing at Meilan.

Meilan looked at her nails boredly, “No.”

I rolled my eyes. I was pretty sure Meilan and Master Chang were an arranged marriage, but in the novel, Master Chang had never remarried – carrying a torch for his late wife well into Heero and Relena’s happily-ever-after. Meilan seemed to reciprocate whatever that feeling was, as she allowed no insult to her husband by any lips not her own.

“So killing Trant Clark is out of the question,” Hilde stated, pulling us back to the main topic. _Atta girl._ “And Your Grace has stated you have no intention of continuing the affair.”

The revulsion on my face must have been pretty clear because Hilde looked to be fighting a smile. Mikhail cocked his head in thought, “So what would be the best way to settle this?”

Ideally, I could just snub Trant Clark and he’d take the hint. Going by the disgustingly flowery language of the letter though – he hadn’t used my name once, just constant terms of endearment – it seemed unlikely he’d understand. This may even prompt him to come to the estate and demand a meeting, which was something I refused to allow.

“I’ll write him a letter,” I decided. “And tell him straight-forwardly it’s over.”

I can’t believe I have to break up with someone on another person’s behalf. If other-me wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him.

“Have our fastest couriers deliver it,” I told Howard. “If he’s coming to the provincial capital just to see me, let’s save him the trip.”

  
  


* * *

Trant Clark was a punk ass bitch.

“He’s at the gate?” I echoed in a kind of muted horror. “At _our_ front gate?”

Howard nodded. 

“Kill him!” Maybe I should just let Meilan have her way.

Shaking myself out of those homicidal thoughts, I let out an exasperated sigh. I guess it was too much to hope for that the novel would give me my space and let the issue of other-me’s affairs die a quiet death. I should just be glad it was only one of them and not both, whoever mystery man #2 is. 

God, it better not be the Prince. If it is, I’m gonna suggest Relena lead a coup instead of a peaceful inheritance.

But what to do with Trant Clark? As nice and quick as Meilan’s suggestion would be, Howard was right - I couldn’t kill another noble without some horrendous fallout. Clearly the letter-writing approach hadn’t worked since he turned up at the estate anyway, which meant he wanted a face-to-face meeting. I guess it really was more effective to break up in person.

“Pick three of the scariest-looking knights we have to deliver this message,” I said, drumming my fingers atop the desk. “I’ll meet him at… Hiiragi Tavern, after dinner. Send Mifune there first to reserve a private room, the barkeeper knows her. Try to get a room without a bed, I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings.”

Howard blinked. “Are we not inviting him in, Your Grace?”

“Like hell,” I scowled. “This is my _husband’s_ home. He’s not stepping one foot inside.” 

A viciously pleased expression flashed over the faces of those present - Howard, Mikhail, Hilde, and Meilan - before Howard nodded and with a quick bow, left to do as instructed. I turned a look on the others that had remained.

“No,” Hilde said instantly.

Damn, her instincts were always spot-on.

“Afraid you don’t get a vote in this,” I told her. “ _I’m going._ You can’t break it off for me.”

Hilde scowled. 

Meilan looked contemplative. “I could break _him_ for you--”

“You’re not going because you just want to fight someone,” I cut her off. “I’m trying to end this civilly.”

Now Meilan was scowling. 

Ignoring her, I glared at Mikhail. He raised his hands up in a surrendering gesture, than countered that by pointing out “You still need a guard accompaniment, Your Grace.”

How did other-me even have an affair with this much obsessive shadowing? Was he just an exhibitionist?!

“You and Mifune then,” I relented. I felt like Lyle would just cry on me if he came, and either Berion or Sayaka would take the Meilan-route and murder Trant Clark. 

“I’m coming too,” Hilde said stubbornly.

_Like I even have a choice._

  
  


* * *

Hiiragi Tavern was owned by a pretty older woman who was probably related to Mifune in some way but neither woman elaborated on it, despite their near carbon-copy appearance of each other. It was situated a few blocks away from the town square, and I’d only found it after one of my merchant friends recommended it for its lighter fare. It was a quiet hole-in-the-wall place that promised privacy, thanks in part to the no-nonsense look of Mifune’s relative and the gentle giant that was her husband and co-owner.

Granted, it wasn’t a high-class sort of place, but this was the break up of an extramarital affair. Class wasn’t a part of it.

Apparently I was alone in this thought.

“My love, why would you choose to meet _here?”_

Trant Clark was an older man, dark brown hair pulled back in a short ponytail and topped with a Wellington beaver hat which he hurried to take off as I entered the room. He stood a head taller than me, although he was more lanky in form. He was neither ugly nor handsome, merely average through and through, so I guessed the other-me really was just obsessed with pure bloodlines. 

I’d spent most of the day prior to this meeting ruminating over how I would present myself to this man. There was no way I could tell him the truth, either my version of it or the servants’ version of it; it was more than likely he’d use my supposed amnesia in his favor after all. I needed to somehow act as other-me, except as an other-me with a change of heart - which was easier said than done. Aside from my purported list of crimes and how the servants reacted to me when I first arrived, I wasn’t clear on other-me’s exact personality besides “haughty bastard.” 

I’d ordered Mikhail and Mifune to wait outside the room, only bringing Hilde inside because I’m sure if I didn’t, she’d break in eventually. She was standing silent and still by the door, eyes never leaving the floor as if she was waiting for my command. I bet if Trant even dared to get handsy, she’d find a way to dismember him.

“You received my letter, did you not?” I asked, ignoring his question entirely and settling myself on the sofa opposite of the one he occupied. I was dressed in something that may have been worn by other-me: a wine-red Rococo-esque tunic embroidered with white and gold flowers, black tights underneath that tucked into heeled white boots. A ruffled, matching collar was wrapped around my throat, my accessories limited to the wedding ring on my finger and the jewels tied into the ornate braided hairstyle the maids wove into my hair. 

God, there were so many ruffles. How did women survive in this? I felt like I was wearing a heavy curtain.

“I think someone sent me a false letter, darling,” Trant simpered, crossing the distance between us to hold my hand tenderly. I didn’t bother to hide the disgust on my face but apparently that was not enough to stop him. “They wanted to separate us!”

I stared at him. Did he forget I was _married?_ And that he lived in an entirely different province? 

“But do not worry, my sunshine - I of course did not believe their lies! Our love compelled me here to find you!” Here, he scowled. “Although those fools at the gate of your home refused to let me see you and told me to wait here. I would have fought them but I did not want to distress you.”

I would have loved to see him try to fight our knights. Their training was so intense nowadays that I wasn’t even completely sure if there were just two knights out in the hall guarding me right now. For all I know, the innkeeper could be a knight, that’s how crazy their covert training had been going.

I extracted my hand from his hold, making a mental note to invest in gloves at some point. “The letter was not a lie. I came here in person because I didn’t want you to misunderstand anything - I’m ending this. We’re over.”

Trant looked utterly shocked. Exactly what about my current disposition even looked welcoming that he was surprised? Either he was just this dense, or other-me didn’t like him much either.

“Y-You don’t mean that, do you?” he stuttered out. “Duo-- my love, my heart--”

_What is this constant parade of pet names?!_

“--has something happened?” he demanded, falling to his knees to grab at my hands again, expression desperate. _Ew, bad touch! Bad touch!_ “Have I hurt you in some way?”

How would he even do that? I’d been left alone for over a year by this point; I may not have heard from or seen Heero at all, but at least he had the excuse of being on an expedition. This guy was just wandering about the country and hadn’t even bothered to send a letter until he came to town. I was obviously just a booty call for him.

“I did some self-reflection,” I told him dryly, pulling my hands away again. “And re-evaluated my life so far. I decided to become a better person, so I’m ending this...relationship...with you so I can better honor my husband.”

“Your husband already knows about us!” Trant cried. 

Oh, right. I guess Heero did figure out other-me had affairs, given that he would tell all that to Relena in the future too. God, it’s going to be _so_ awkward when he finally comes back…

“Who has been feeding you this drivel about honoring him?” Trant continued in outrage. “Was it the Duke’s servants?”

He turned a glare on Hilde. She didn’t look up but I could tell she was fairly radiating contempt. I didn’t think he’d noticed, but he seemed as narcissistic as other-me so maybe he just _refused_ to notice. 

_I don’t need Hilde to tell me you’re a dick,_ I wanted to say. Instead, I managed out: “I told you it was self-reflection.” _Remember what Lady Aurora taught you, be a good dandy!_ “These words are my own.”

“Are they threatening you?!” Trant demanded.

“They aren’t.”

“Then has the Duke said something?!” 

I fucking _wish_. “He hasn’t.”

“If this is because I did not send you any letters while I was traveling the Farrell province--”

“It’s not.”

“Then is it--”

“Sir Clark, this is a decision I came to by. My. Self,” I cut him off, enunciating clearly. Why was he just dragging this on? Let it go already!! “It’s over. We’re over. _Goodbye_.”

I stood up to leave, contemplating making a ‘maim-on-sight’ order for the guards when it came to Trant Clark appearing in the provincial capital again, but this just pushed him into more frenetic behavior.

“Surely you weren’t sincere when you said you wanted to honor your husband!” Trant claimed. “He has _commoner_ blood! He’s the son of a common whor--”

_Okay, that’s it._

Body moving on autopilot, I shoved Trant Clark to the ground. He landed with a hard thud and surprised yelp, although his shocked protestations died in his throat when one of my heeled boots stomped the top of the coffee table behind him. When his eyes met mine, his mouth slid open in a dumbfounded gape but mercifully no more words came spilling out of it. I couldn’t help but grin.

“Hey, are you _fucking deaf?”_ I asked him pleasantly. “Or just _stupid?”_

Trant just stared up at me with wide, terrified eyes.

“Heero might have commoner blood,” _He doesn’t._ “But what makes _you_ so fucking special, huh? You think daddy’s money will always be around to save your ass?”

Hilde was staring at me, I could _feel_ it. I think I could also sense Lady Aurora’s future disappointment that I was acting more like a thug than a proper dandy too.

I used to get into a lot of fights, okay? It’s not something that could be helped; if someone ticked me off, I let them know it and let my fists do the talking! It was practically an ingrained habit! The only reason I’d never shown this side of me before was because I always had servants or knights right in the thick of it with me - and both groups held on to either lingering fear or remnant contempt because of other-me, so it’s not like I could just start brawls with them around.

But this Trant Clark guy was just _so annoying_. Not only did he not take ‘no, it’s over’ for an answer, he kept casting the blame wherever he saw fit and the more time I spent with him, the more agitated my people became!

Is this what Heero had to put up with all this time? A husband who flaunted his affairs right in his face and insulted him to the amusement of his lovers? I’m surprised other-me hadn’t been killed sooner. Literally anyone who knew Heero personally should have just tried to assassinate other-Duo for Heero’s own well-being!

Trant seemed to be trying to rally himself together. “Wh-What are you--”

“I write you a letter, but apparently you’re illiterate. I speak to you in person, but it seems that’s not enough,” I cut him off. “Is there some other way you need the message conveyed? Maybe I should take a page from my husband’s book and send you back home _one piece at a time?”_

Trant stopped trying to speak, paling incredibly fast. 

“Not only do you come crawling here when you’re not wanted, you even try to talk shit about Heero? _You?_ The man who visited his home as a guest and _slept with his husband?_ The only person with less honor than you is _the husband you fucked!”_

“But--”

_“Shut up.”_

Trant whimpered.

“So here’s what’s going to happen from now on. You’ll never come back to the Yuy province. You’ll stay away from any place where Duke Yuy or I are residing. If I hear that Heero has even _glimpsed_ a strand of your hair out of the corner of his eye, _I’ll hack off one of your fucking limbs.”_

“I-I am the son of a _count--_ ”

_“Shut the fuck up before I decide to start with your dick.”_

Trant wisely shut up. 

I smiled down at him benevolently. “Thank you for a fruitful evening, Sir Clark. Try not to still be here by the time the sun rises tomorrow or you’ll soon discover the wonders of Chinese Water Torture.”

I patted him twice on the cheek, ignoring his flinch in response because I am a kind and gentle duchess, then turned to leave the room with Hilde trailing my steps. Mikhail and Mifune were quick to fall in line after us, and going by their expressions, I guess eavesdropping was another course in the duchess-stalking training regimen.

Also, Mifune’s awed expression erred on the side of _creepy_.

I wonder if it was too late to swear them to secrecy.

* * *

  
  


“You threatened him,” Hilde recounted with a kind of shocked wonder. We’d just returned to the estate and she’d dragged me into the study; I thought she had wanted to give Howard and Meilan the rundown, but it looked more like she just wanted to interrogate me instead. I could never win, could I? “You defended the Duke and _threatened to dismember Trant Clark.”_

Why did she make it sound like I just performed a shakedown? “Well he’s stupid,” I defended myself. “Lady Aurora said it’s rude to visit someone uninvited. I was just passing along the lesson.”

“You threatened to torture him if he didn’t leave by sunrise.”

Howard’s eyebrows rose in surprise but Meilan just looked smugly pleased.

“If he comes back, I’ll do more than just talk,” I muttered angrily. Honestly, going by novel-logic, I should probably expect a murder attempt at some point in the future. I bet the novel would love that - adulterous duchess killed by his own former lover! Adds a little more spice to Heero’s tragic romantic backstory.

“Where did you learn to threaten people like that?” Hilde sure was persistent. Maybe I should have cut off one of Trant Clark’s hands after all - I bet that would have satisfied her. 

I turned my gaze to the window - the night sky looked lovely. “I don’t know if that counts as a threat…”

_“You said you were going to castrate him.”_

Meilan’s vicious glee edged up several notches. I pretended to inspect the fine craftsmanship of my desk in order to avoid Howard’s and Mikhail’s incredulous stares. 

Thuggish dandy Duo, that’s me. “Stroke of inspiration,” I mumbled to the desktop.

“Did he cry?” Meilan grinned. Maybe next time, I’ll insist she follow Heero to the frontline - girl had some built-up bloodlust she needed to vent. 

“He did after His Grace the Duchess said he was going to use ‘Chinese Water Torture’ on him,” Hilde answered. "I don't know what that is though. Is it related to the steam engine?"

I stared in sightless horror at my desk at the mental images of that. "No," I choked out in reply.

“So what is Chinese Water Torture?” Meilan asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” I promised her because I wasn’t going down the dark road of perfecting torture practices alone. “Anyway, I suppose he won’t want to sleep with me anymore, so that’s the end of that.”

“You mentioned maiming him if he ever set foot in the Yuy province,” Mikhail piped in. He seemed to be in a chipper mood but I didn’t want to examine that too closely either; I should probably start re-evaluating my inner circle here. “Should I pass on those orders to Commander Broden?”

“Please absolutely _do not_ pass those orders on to Commander Broden,” I replied hollowly, already imagining the clusterfuck that would turn into. By the time Heero returned, I would have already inadvertently turned half his guards into assassins and the other half into tanks.

“You also spoke like a street thug,” Hilde added because she was never satisfied unless she found some creative way to stab me in the back.

Howard sighed, “I’ll be talking to Lady Aurora about your lessons in diplomacy.”

I twitched. No one appreciated my hard work here.

  
  


* * *

“As we are civilized, we don’t need to lower ourselves to physically threatening others.”

“...I understand…”

“We also never use crude or foul language to make our points.”

“...right…”

“If you are insulted by another noble, you can demand a formal apology or take the matter to the imperial court.”

“...yes…”

“If you feel threatened or grievously slighted, you can also just have your knights behead the offender on the spot.”

“...wait, what?”

Thus began Lady Aurora’s Special Lesson in Abuses of Power (Capital Punishment Edition).

  
  


* * *

Working on my embroidery and not at all regretting missing my chance to decapitate Trant Clark for a minor transgression, I delicately stitched another thread into the Coat-of-Arms of the larger handkerchief in my hands. This wasn’t intended to be Heero’s next gift, serving more as a means for practice so that Heero’s next handkerchief would be beautifully embroidered by yours truly. I knew it wasn’t going to be as well-received as Relena’s workmanship would later be, but he could use it in the meanwhile right?

It’d only been a week since my meeting with Trant, so when Howard entered the room with a silver tray holding another letter, I felt understandably wary. “If that’s another letter from Trant Clark or the other guy, just throw it into the fireplace,” I told him. I'd just barely managed to dissuade the estate knights from following a 'maim-on-sight' order for Clark after Mifune spread the word, and I wasn't looking to revisit the topic with a new addition.

“It’s not, Your Grace,” Howard said, and for the first time, looked to be almost brimming with excitement. “It’s a letter from the Duke.”

“From Heero?” I blinked, reaching for it. He’d never written to me before - well, not _me_ -me anyway - so this was a pleasant surprise. Howard had said the lack of correspondence was the result of Heero being too busy on the frontlines and unreliable messengers, but I think we both knew that Heero just didn’t want to write to me.

But now he had… Had my letters finally changed something?

I never got to speak with Heero directly; I didn’t know how he spoke to the man he married. Would he be cold? It would only be fair, given other-me’s conduct. Or would he try to be falsely-affectionate, like Trant Clark, in order to please the spouse that so abhorred him? Would he be angry, or depressed, or just tired of both the battlefield of the frontline and the battlefield in his marriage bed?

Breaking open the wax seal and pulling out the letter, I unfolded it with a sense of wary anticipation. 

_Dear Duo,_

_I hope you are well. I heard about the fire, and your run-in with the bandits in Aoba-ku, and the issue with human trafficking in Ishigaki. It must have been very hard on you. Your safety is a priority for the knights of the estate. Please be at ease, they will keep you safe._

_Also, thank you for the gifts. ~~The whiskey burns my throat.~~ The whiskey has an interesting taste. ~~You like this kind of drink?~~ The fruits and nuts were indeed my favorites. Thank you for remembering something so inconsequential. The ~~hand~~ ~~ha~~ ~~handke~~ handkerchief was nicely done. _

_Can you please answer some questions I had._

_What is the meaning behind the pressed flowers?_

_What is a ‘steam engine’?_

_What is the reason behind reorganizing the duchy’s budget?_

_What were you doing in Aoba-ku? And Ishigaki village?_

_When did you start to like hiking?_

_Did you know there was iron ore in those mountains?_

_What happened with Lady Meilan?_

_What's a steamboat?_

_~~Why did you~~ When did you embroider this handkerchief? _

_How is your health?_

_Regards,_

_Heero Yuy_

“....”

Holy shit, it was like being sent questions for an interview from an inexperienced tabloid reporter! Or maybe like I was being given a quiz, but instead of Heero trying to verify who the hell I was and what I knew, he was more concerned with what I was doing. I wonder if this is how he usually wrote to other-me.

Hilde and Howard stared at me from across the room, trying to gauge my reaction.

I glanced over to them. “...has Heero...ever written a letter before?” 

“He’s written several letters, Your Grace,” Howard answered promptly.

“Has he written letters that _weren’t_ about work?”

A telling silence. I looked back down at the letter. The words that had been scratched out were still legible; I knew from firsthand experience that scratching it out with a quill was a pain in the ass, so I hardly ever bothered to completely black it out. I guess Heero was the same.

~~_'The whiskey burns my throat.'_ ~~

I couldn’t help it - I grinned. Heero is surprisingly pretty fucking cute.

And not a single term of endearment. I've never felt so grateful.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
**A/N** : I actually had this chapter written last week but I hated the first draft because my inner angst-writer tried to come out and hijack the story. Rewrote it this week to keep the humorous tone 😂

> **Everyone** : Heero is super strong and brave and the most feared and respected man on the battlefield!  
>   
>  **Duo, looking at his letter** : _He's a neeeerrrrrdd!_

_Please be kind and_ **_drop a comment and kudos!_ :)**


	12. Arc I, Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo’s not the only one full of surprises.

**A/N** : Trying something new with the letter formats since they're getting longer...

* * *

**Chapter 12**

_Dear Heero…_

* * *

“Your Grace, Commander - you have letters from the provincial capital.”

Trowa was the first to move, reaching out and accepting not one, not two, but _three_ letters from the messenger at the door before dismissing him. Wufei had looked up as well, but upon seeing Trowa shaking his head, sighed in annoyance – Meilan hadn’t sent another letter, which meant that despite the last one, she still hadn’t forgiven him.

“Maybe she’s busy,” Heero suggested, just to be kind.

Wufei scowled. “With what – keeping the Duchess alive?” he scoffed.

Heero didn’t reply. Going by the last few reports he’d received from Howard and Commander Broden, keeping Duo alive seemed to be difficult, for whatever reason.

Trowa handed Heero two of the letters, keeping one for himself. On Heero’s curious glance, the green-eyed male flashed him the envelope’s front so he could read the name of the sender: _Commander Broden._ Heero guessed Trowa’s proxy back in the provincial capital was finally reaching out for advice.

As was his usual, Heero opened the letter from Howard first. Eyes scanning the page, he couldn’t help the small scowl that crept up onto his face.

“Did they ‘reorganize’ the budget again?” Wufei asked.

“Trant Clark paid a visit.”

Trowa came up to his side, silently supportive. Wufei’s scowl deepened, and he straightened the documents he was reviewing with a rougher hand than usual. “It has been over a year,” he sneered in contempt. Trant Clark was one of Duo’s two lovers; a haughty, vindictive man who lorded his relationship with Heero’s husband over him whenever he had the chance.

It wasn’t unusual for nobility to take on paramours, but it was good manners to hide their infidelity; Duo, of course, had never bothered. He’d taken great pleasure in letting Heero know that despite their marriage, he’d never deign to touch the skin of someone with commoner blood. Duo may not have loved or even liked Trant Clark, but that was because the man was nothing more than another tool to use against Heero.

Heero’s brows furrowed as he read Howard’s report. “…Duo ended the affair,” he summarized in confusion. It was a strange choice by the man; Trant Clark may not be the best bed partner, but he still had noble blood, good connections and standing, and was easy enough to manipulate. As far as tools, he was a good one.

“Clark may have annoyed him,” Trowa pointed out.

Heero nodded. Howard hadn’t gone into the specifics, but apparently Clark was now barred from the provincial capital…and from both his and Duo’s eyesight. Heero wondered how Clark had taken the news.

That wasn’t the only thing Duo had been up to; he had also made a significant donation to the provincial capital’s orphanages, apart from Heero’s usual donations. There was an additional report on the Bluefield orphanage, to Heero’s dismay; the caretakers had been arrested or excommunicated, and there was a follow-up with other bureaucratic members of the clergy who had been overseeing it. Duo was involved, and in what seemed to be a recurring trend, he was injured again as well.

Maybe Broden was correct in his zeal to train the guards. Clearly they were lacking if Duo kept getting into trouble.

Setting aside Howard’s report, Heero’s eyes fell on Duo’s letter with some minor trepidation. This letter would be in reply to the one he had sent… what would Duo say? How would he react to Heero’s questions – would he actually answer them, or would he be offended that Heero even dared to ask?

Pulling out the letter inside, Heero was surprised to find not the usual one page, but instead three pages folded together. Unfolding the parchment, he began to read.

> _Dear Heero,_
> 
> _Are you doing well? The Autumn equinox is coming soon, I can tell by how much pumpkin I can smell in the air. Even then, I can’t get my mind off the future – spring will be here in no time, and with it, you will be home._
> 
> _I’m happy you liked the gifts! Whiskey sure has a strong taste, doesn’t it? It’s gotten fairly popular around here now; we’ve shared the recipe with some of the local brewers, so it may be a common good in the market by the time you return! ~~Try to keep it away from Howard, alcoholism is a dark hole to fall into.~~ _
> 
> _Also, your taste in food should never be considered unimportant! I’ll be sure to organize a ~~damn awesome~~ wonderful homecoming feast upon your return, full of your favorites! Any requests?_
> 
> _I’ve been working more on my embroidery. I’ve gotten better at stitching our Coat-of-Arms but it’s still a work in progress, ~~and I can’t quite place Hilde’s expression when she sees it~~. I’m excited to show you the fruits of my labor. The handkerchief I gave you was too small, wasn’t it? I’ll be sure to give you a bigger and better one soon!_
> 
> _Heero, are you interviewing me? I’m so shy~ You’re curious huh~ Just kidding! You’re making a funny face right now, aren’t you?_
> 
> _The pink camellias mean “love and longing.” Daisies mean “faith in you.” ~~Was it too lame?~~ I thought you might miss some of the flowers from our home. And I also wanted to assure you that I didn’t burn down the entire garden!_
> 
> _Oh wow, so you heard about Taketoyo’s steam engines already, even down there? Or was it from Howard? Anyway, it’s nothing too crazy so don’t worry. A steam engine is a mechanical tool that uses steam to move it. It uses the force produced by steam pressure to push a piston back and forth inside a cylinder. This pushing force is turned by a connecting rod and flywheel into rotational force for----_

The letter cut off into a jumble of scratches.

> _Sorry about the above! Hilde wrestled my quill away from me. By the way, isn’t writing with a quill such a pain? I’m tired of it. I’m gonna ~~invent the pen~~ make something that’s easier to write with, just wait! I’ll give you a personalized one too._
> 
> _Oh, Hilde said I can’t talk too much about the steam engine in the letter because it’s not secure. I’ll explain it to you in person when you come back, okay? I have a bunch of schematics to show you too, like the one for the steamboat! A steamboat uses the steam engine to propel the boat forward through the water, it’s a lot faster than rig and sail. I’ve been tinkering with some of the other schematics too, I think a steam engine train can be made much sooner than I previously tho----_

The letter once again cut off into jumbled scratches.

> _Hilde doesn’t want me talking about engines anymore. Sorry, Heero._
> 
> _About the duchy’s budget – it’s not like it was bad or anything, but this way it’s much clearer what’s meant for the province and what’s meant for our family, right? It’s important for finances to have clear lines between personal and professional use. ~~Did Master Winner take a look at the new budget too?~~ Our family’s finances are still in good shape, I’ve made a few investments here and there so the profit’s been coming in as well._
> 
> _I was interested in Aoba-ku because it’s one of our poorer towns. I wanted to check if there was anything that could be done to help. Finding that iron vein there was just a stroke of luck! And don’t worry about my run-in with the bandits or any of those other incidents, it was nothing so horrible! Everyone’s just being ~~paranoid~~ vigilant. Also, if you receive any requests from Commander Broden about possibly purchasing a bear or any other large animal for training purposes, please ~~decline~~ reconsider. The guards don’t need it. They really, really don’t._
> 
> _Lady Meilan has been great! She’s become a good friend of mine as of late, and she’s a ~~riot~~ pleasure to have at tea parties. She also helped to bring down the governor of Ishigaki during the human trafficking incident. We were lucky to run into her there when I just stopped by to meet a friend of one of the local merchants in town._
> 
> _My health is fine, don’t worry about me! I’m more worried about you. Please be safe, and we’ll be praying for the safe return of you and your men._
> 
> _Thinking about you,_
> 
> _Duo_

Heero rubbed a hand over his face. Not only did Duo try to answer all of his questions, but he’d kept an almost fond tone throughout his writing. Then there was the repeated use of “our” in the letter: “ _our Coat-of-Arms,”_ “ _our home_ ,” “ _our family_.” Duo had never done that before, had never referred to anything as jointly “theirs” as he didn’t want to validate their marriage in any way. Heero didn’t want to misconstrue it but going from the letter… Duo seemed to almost lik—

“Your Grace,” Trowa interrupted his thoughts, although his green eyes were locked on the letter in his own hands. “Commander Broden is asking to purchase live bears…?”

“No,” Heero replied instantly. _Duo was right?_

Wufei gave the Knight Commander a puzzled frown. “Why is he asking for bears? That’s too much, even for a hunting party.”

“He said it’s for training the Duchess guards,” Trowa answered.

Heero stared unseeingly at his husband’s letter. _Duo, what are you doing?!_

“Quatre will figure it out,” Wufei proclaimed, clearly just wanting to wash his hands of anything related to the Duchess. “He should get there soon. Whatever the Duchess is up to, Quatre will find out.”

Heero couldn’t help but agree. He hoped Quatre would figure it out quickly.

Had Duo really changed…?

* * *

_Elsewhere, in Taketoyo…_

Quatre couldn’t help but stare.

“It’s a steamboat,” Abdul stated proudly, chest puffed out a bit under the incredulous stares of the other Maguanacs. He’d initially been disappointed he would have to stay behind in Taketoyo to manage the Winner family’s branch store in the city while the rest of the Maguanacs were to follow Quatre out into the field, but he knew now how lucky he’d been to be present in Taketoyo after it was visited by the Duchess. “We’re building more as well, they’re much faster at transporting!”

“Abdul, where…where did you…?”

“The Duchess made them! Brilliant, isn’t it?” Abdul beamed. “He met with Sir Marcus, the leader of the engineering guild, and shared the schematics. He drafted them himself, you know – he even wrote reports on possible functions, repairs, alterations, everything! I had no idea His Grace the Duchess was interested in engineering. He must be a genius!”

Quatre smiled back at him, “He must be. I’d love to see what else he’s been up to too.”

“Of course, Master Quatre! Let me show you the blueprints he made for the improved blast furnaces to smelt iron, I heard the guys in Aoba-ku have finished constructing them and the iron is turning out beautifully…”

Quatre continued smiling as Abdul babbled on, and kept smiling as blueprint after prototype after blueprint was presented to him, given alongside possible uses, theoretical improvements, future ideas for development, and detailed explanations of the inner mechanics – all (as Abdul was eager to tell) direct from the Duchess himself.

Quatre’s smile never once wavered.

Rashid felt sweat break out along his brow. He prayed that everything Abdul said was the truth, because if the Duchess had been lying about it and taking credit for someone else’s work – then Duke Yuy may not have a spouse anymore by the time he returned.

* * *

**A/N** : ♪ Quatre~ Is coming~ To town~~ ♪

 _Please be kind and_ **_drop a comment and kudos!_ :)**


	13. Arc I, Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo just came out for a good time and is honestly feeling so attacked right now.

**A/N** : Just got a new job (woo~!) but I’m hoping to keep up this update speed!

* * *

**Chapter 13**

* * *

There are seven major holidays in the Sanc Kingdom: the Winter and Summer Solstices are the longest ones, being week-long events that encourage extreme fanfare from the people in the provincial capital for all seven days; there is the Autumn equinox, a three-day long event where the nobles gather in the Capital for the Royal Hunt; the anniversary of the founding of the Sanc Kingdom, which called for a day of rest and tranquility rather than partying; the Spring equinox, also three days in length except flower festivals are common during this time rather than the harvest; then New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day, both meant to be spent with family in private celebrations.

I hadn't arrived in this world in time for the Spring equinox, and I'd missed the Summer Solstice entirely because of my province tour. At this time of year, everyone was in anticipation for the Autumn equinox.

On the last day of the Autumn equinox celebration, a giant bonfire was built in the center of town and lit up. There was dancing and drinking done around it, and generally people acting like fools so they could recall this warm memory as winter descended.

We still had a good few weeks before this celebration but everyone was already well on their way in preparations. The Duke – and indeed, nearly all presiding nobility – were hardly ever at their estates during the time of the Autumn equinox, given that it was the time of the Royal Hunt, so Howard and the others were well-equipped and knew exactly how to organize the estate’s celebration with minimal supervision.

Not that that had stopped me from trying to help, but Howard looked personally offended by the very suggestion. I then tried to review the budget again, but I’d already taken care of all the paperwork for the estate and the financials for the duchy were still being processed by my army of accountants, so I had nothing else to do except try to serve Howard and the others tea as they worked.

Which is why I was booted out of the study room and told to spend the day relaxing elsewhere.

“Am I just for decoration?” I griped. “I have my uses too, you know!”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Daigo responded supportively. Despite his tone, I knew he had most of his attention focused on the dough he was kneading. I tried very hard not to be offended.

Daigo was a recent addition to the estate, one of several new apprentices straight from the orphanages. He was part of the program Howard and I had set up which granted apprenticeships to the older orphans; depending on the position, it could be short-term or long-term. The reasoning behind it was that serving a duke estate was valuable work experience, so even if they did not stay long-term, it would not be difficult to find work elsewhere with the backing of the Yuy estate. This program was also one of the few we could implement without Heero’s direct approval since the Duchess was usually in charge of the estate.

“You know what I should do? I should ‘invent’ electricity.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“When I finally get around to making fairy lights, we’ll see if they’ll continue to keep me out of holiday planning…”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?” Now even the apprentices were rejecting me!

Chef Morris glanced over from the pot he was stirring. Thankfully, it didn’t smell pickled; this pot looked vaguely like meat stew with noodles. I think I finally broke through the last barrier between me and other-me’s food tastes. “Your Grace, perhaps you’d like to have a picnic? We can make you a basket.”

Great, now the kitchen staff was trying to get rid of me.

“No thanks, I’m going to go…check on the knights.”

The main residence of the Yuy estate was where I spent most of my time, but the actual estate was sprawling and encompassed far more. The knight’s barracks were close to the main residence, although it was a god ten minutes’ walk from the back garden and neatly hidden behind a downhill slope. Right next to it was the training field where Heero’s men exercised and practiced swordplay daily; on quiet days, I could even hear them during my garden stroll.

As always when I left the halls of the main residence, a guard suddenly appeared close by to follow me. Since I was inside the estate and had been a very good dandy recently, the number had finally gone down to one so now only Asahi was trailing behind me.

Asahi was great because while he’d been on the Duchess Guard for awhile now, he’d still somehow missed most of my previous misadventures. This meant he hadn’t yet been infected with the fanatical obsession over my every move like the others, or the strong streak of paranoia that both Hilde and Mikhail held when it came to me leaving the premises (or even thinking about leaving the premises).

Which was something I now intended to exploit without remorse.

“A~ Sa~ Hi~” I crooned with a smile, turning around abruptly just as we’d left the direct line of sight of the main residence. “I have a good idea~!”

Asahi tensed immediately.

“Let’s go to the town square,” I told him sweetly. “ _Right now.”_

“T-Then I shall get more guards to accompany—”

“One guard is fine,” I cut him off, still smiling. “We’ve been to the town square plenty of times.”

“But—”

“Come on, let’s go to the stables to get the carriage.”

“Y-Your Grace—”

I continued smiling.

Asahi glanced around like cornered prey, but eventually his shoulders slumped in defeat and he bleakly followed my quick trot to the stables. They were closer to the training grounds than the main residence, which was why they always had to prepare my carriage ahead of time and have it meet me at the front entrance.

This close proximity to the knights’ training grounds was perhaps why little Connor had taken on the apprenticeship under our stableman - all so that he could ogle Lyle’s practice in his free time. I didn’t look forward to the day Connor’s crush changed to some other person since that might mean he’d suddenly change occupations too. I should really start looking into the general education standards of the duchy as well…

The stable wasn’t very busy by the time we got there; Connor and another boy in the pathway program were sweeping around the entrance, and the actual stableman was a pretty young woman by the name of Catherine Bloom.

At our approach, the curious expression on her face turned to shock. She quickly sent the two boys back into the barn before I could get within earshot, but by the panicked look on her face, I could tell she wasn’t thrilled to see me here.

Reputation was a hard thing to change. With me taking over other-me’s body, most – if not all – of the household staff of the main residence knew about my amnesia and subsequent personality change; the Duchess Guard, Commander Broden, and even most of the knights and guards that frequented the nearby barracks also knew of my ‘condition’. Some of the exterior staff – such as the soldiers that lived outside of the estate and only came by to attend training drills, the gardeners who worked outside of the main residence’s garden, and even the staff of the stables weren’t exactly privy to it.

It had never really come up since then. Whenever I traveled, one of the knights would be driving the carriage; if I went to town, my usual driver – old man Gary – took me, and he treated me kindly as long as I treated him kindly. I’d also never been to the stables before so I never got to meet Catherine in person.

Which meant she obviously thought I was still the haughty asshole from before. _Great…_

“Asahi, look less like I’m dragging you to your execution,” I whispered out of the corner of my mouth. She probably thought I was bullying my own guard too.

Asahi just sighed in resignation behind me. “At least an execution would give me the sweet release of death,” he muttered.

Why did all my guards have to be either creepy or sarcastic. I wish I could veto them. “We’re just going to visit the town square,” I said.

“I hate shopping,” he admitted plainly.

“You think I’d sneak away _just_ to shop _?”_ I needed to keep my gossip network alive and well too, after all.

“So you admit we’re sneaking away…”

 _Veto!_ I’m vetoing him! Now I understand why Connor has such a crush on Lyle – Lyle was nice and friendly and didn’t rain on my parade any chance he could!

We’d finally entered the stable grounds properly so I resolutely turned to face Catherine, pulling up what I hoped was a bright and friendly smile that completely hid my urge to bury Asahi in the pile of hay nearby.

“Hi, Miss Catherine,” I greeted her. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?”

Catherine stared at me, completely taken-aback. I didn’t let it bother me – at least it wasn’t fear. This was better, right? “Stable looks good too. How are your two new apprentices?”

 _Small talk is fitting for a Duchess,_ Lady Aurora had told me. _To make the other party feel comfortable, indulge in small talk at first and then work to bigger topics._

Come on, dandy etiquette lessons, don’t fail me now!

“Y-Yes, good afternoon, Your Grace,” Catherine finally managed out. She wasn’t smiling, but at least she wasn’t as hostile as Hilde had been initially. She mostly just seemed confused. “And thank you. The boys are doing well.”

 _Not a lot of description there, Cathy, but I’ll work with it._ “That’s good to hear! As you know, we’re really hoping working here at the estate serves as good work experience for these kids—”

_“It’s the Duchess!”_

_“The Duchess is here?! Do you think he recognizes you, Connor?”_

I glanced over to the door of the stable, where both Connor and the other boy were poking out their heads to gawk at us. I beamed at them and pretended not to notice Catherine’s utterly horrified expression as their words reached us.

“Hi Connor!” I called out to the boy before Catherine could shoo them away.

Connor, wide-eyed and blushing, froze. “H-Hi, Y-Your Grace.”

Aww, so cute! I guess he felt embarrassed over last time, where he told me I looked weak and was worried about my relationship with Lyle. Little did he know I’m the one that actually recommended him to Howard for the pathway program.

“I just saw Daigo,” I told Connor with a conspiratorial smirk. “Did you know he makes Lianna personalized heart-shaped cookies every time the kitchen staff cooks a batch for dessert?”

That had Connor coming out of the stable, his curiosity winning out over his trepidation; much like me, he was starved for entertainment. He loved to gossip about his friend’s developing romance, and now that Daigo was finally reciprocating Lianna’s feelings, they’d entered that awkward courtship stage that made them easy to tease.

“That’s so lame,” Connor said, the grin on his face wide. “Bet Lia’s over the moon though. I heard she’s the most energetic in the morning too.”

Lianna entered the apprenticeship program to become a knight, so she was currently serving as a page to one of the estate knights. I hadn’t been able to see her recently but did know Daigo usually met with her after his shift ended to pass her the latest batch of goodies he made.

“Oh, Honoka’s page?” Asahi chimed in. “I’ve met her too. She’s really good at catching porcupines.”

I stared at him. “…why does she catch porcupines?”

“We use porcupines for training in the Duchess Guards.”

“You _what_.”

“The Duke rejected the live bear proposal,” Asahi explained, as if that explained anything.

I had some difficulty turning back to Connor and Catherine. _At least they aren’t using bears,_ I told myself. What did I know about knight training? Maybe this was normal. _Yeah!_ “Anyway,” I began stiffly, acutely aware I was running away from reality. “We’re here to borrow the commoner carriage.”

Catherine shot up like she’d been struck. “W-We’ll bring it to the front right away—”

“Oh no, don’t worry, we’ll just go from here!” I told her brightly.

“But—”

“It’s fine.” _Smile, smile!_

Behind me, Asahi sighed again. _VETOED!_

* * *

The town square was rife with seasonal vendors selling their wares: pumpkins and everything that could be made from them, from roasted seeds to flaky pastries; colorful and ornate papers meant for origami were sold in large volumes, meant to be folded into either cranes or stars (depending on the age of the folder) and placed at either a family member’s grave or on the steps of a church; leaf-patterned lanterns were made and sold as popular decorations. Anything that either carried the essence of Fall was popular.

While I did always have this ‘take the common carriage when I had the least amount of supervision’ plan in my head for awhile now, I did miss out on one critical point: my clothes. Someone using a commoner’s carriage but dressed in clothes fitting the nobility gave off an almost impossible to understand impression: either I was a very wealthy merchant or a noble fallen on hard times and trying to hide it. Either way, it would be best to change my clothes first.

So we parked the carriage in the alleyway next to the clothes shop and I left Asahi there to watch it as I went inside. I really hoped this outfit was worth enough for a completely new one along with some extra money for food and gifts, which I may be planning to use to appease Hilde and the others when they caught wind of my escapade. Although maybe I shouldn’t buy Hilde another weapon, god knows she didn’t need another thing to carry around to maim me with.

“Welcome!” the shopkeeper called out, glancing over before freezing and doing a double-take.

I smiled back at her brightly. I found smiling to be the best approach when interacting with the merchants of town square; they bonded over shared customer service experiences. “Hi there! I was looking to sell this,” I motioned to what I was currently wearing. “And get something different?”

“O-Oh, of course, sir!” she said, stepping around her till to approach me. She seemed to be analyzing my clothes with her eyes and coming up with multiple dollar signs, if the widening grin on her face was any indication. “This material… If you’re trading in this material, you could afford anything in this shop, sir!”

Oh thank god. Lunch was on me then, and maybe Asahi would be appeased enough to not make casual remarks about throwing himself in front of the carriage while it was moving. “Great, I’ll take the plainest thing in my size!”

She stared at me. “The…plainest thing?”

“Yes,” I replied, still smiling and bright and refusing to elaborate.

She took the hint. I was ushered into the backroom to be measured, and then served some tea and snacks as she gathered a few outfits to present them to me. I felt kind of like a bride picking her wedding gown, which made me wonder: what was other-me’s wedding like with Heero? Did he pick out his own wedding outfit, whatever it was? Was I walked down the aisle by the father I had yet to meet? Knowing other-me, he would have hated every second of it and made it a miserable affair for all involved – or maybe he bit his tongue and quietly endured, waiting until he was in the Yuy estate to truly unleash hell?

I chose a dull outfit that shouldn’t stand out in a crowd – trousers and a dark grey tunic shirt with a subdued pattern in dark red threaded on the sleeves – and was left to sip my tea as she vanished to backroom to have someone adjust the clothing closer to my size. I had just started nibbling on the cookies (which were not too sweet but very dry) when I heard the shopkeeper greeting someone else in the front, and not too long afterwards they were guided to the room where I waited.

I’d seen plenty of different kinds of people ever since I woke up here. Hilde was a very pretty girl, even when she loathed my every breath; nearly all of the Duchess Guards would have made excellent fitness models; hell, even the stableman Catherine was a beauty. Despite what I’d learned about the Middle Ages back home (where everyone during the time was painted with the heavy burden of a pre-industrialized life), the people of Sanc just looked average to me. If they all suddenly donned modern clothing and were walking the streets of New York, no one would stand out.

So when I say that the boy that walked in was almost blindingly cute, I mean it. It was like looking into the face of a goddamn angel.

He had large, baby blue eyes set in a boyishly-cute face, topped with curly blonde hair reminiscent of sunlight on a summer day. His clothes weren’t as ornate as most of my wardrobe but they certainly were on the wealthier side – light brown high-waist trousers, salmon-pink collared shirt, and a navy blue vest with the black buttons done up. No tie and no hat though, so he looked a lot more casual than Trant Clark had been. Perhaps he was a wealthy merchant?

Those angelic looks though… He’d have made a great dandy!

“Your clothes are just about finished, Mr. Rashid,” the shopkeeper was telling him, guiding him towards the seating area where I was. “Please wait here for a moment, I’ll go get you some tea.”

Rashid’s smile was befittingly sweet for that angelic face as he thanked the lady and made his way towards the sofas, eyes finally alighting on me.

His smile disappeared and he stopped dead in his tracks.

I suddenly remembered I was still holding a cookie up to my mouth and was mid-chew when they’d entered – no wonder he looked surprised! I probably looked like some kind of psycho with half a cookie pressed against my lips!

I finished the cookie in one quick bite, remembered enough of the manner lessons Lady Aurora had drilled into me to dab at my lips with a napkin before smiling at him. _I’m not a psycho, Angel Boy, don’t be afraid to come over here!_

“H-Hi,” I greeted him, trying to exude friendliness instead of craziness.

He blinked.

“Lovely weather today, isn’t it?” I continued on. Oh god, I needed more lessons on small talk! Lady Aurora, please help me! How do you make friends with angels?!

“I—Yes?” the blonde – Mr. Rashid? – managed out haltingly. He finally started moving closer again, although the startled expression hung vaguely on his features.

 _How to make this less awkward, how, how?_ “Um, so – you come here often?” No wait, that sounds like a pick-up line! “I-I mean, for the clothes? I’m married by the way, please don’t misunderstand…”

The startled expression was back. I almost wanted to flash my wedding ring as evidence that someone had clearly married this nutcase, but I’d hung it around my neck for now so that I wouldn’t be a target for pickpockets when I walked around town square. I don’t think unbuttoning my shirt to reveal it would send the message I was going for here.

“W-What I mean is, are the clothes here…nice…?” I tried to explain. God, maybe Asahi was right all along and I should just aim for the eternal sleep.

“…The clothes here are very well-made,” the angel—Rashid, _Rashid_ , Jesus Christ I need to get ahold of myself – said, smiling at me gently. It was like being a thrown a life preserver while I was drowning in my own self-humiliation; he truly was an angel! “And do not worry. I am married as well.”

That last part was said a little sarcastically. _Hm, trouble at home?_ Poor angel, but I felt I could sympathize with him; with divorce illegal, it seems like we were both in sticky situations.

“Are you from around here?” I asked him. I’d gotten pretty familiar with the locals here, and if someone like this was a regular around town square, I should have seen him in one of my earlier jaunts. Maybe he was a traveling merchant? Or he was here for a holiday?

He stared at me in shock again. Why? Was he actually from around here and was well-known enough that no one would have asked him that?!

“I’m pretty new around here,” I rushed to explain. “I’ve been here for about a year!”

“A…year?” he echoed quietly in disbelief.

“Yeah, sorry.” I had no idea why I was apologizing but whatever! “Uh… my name is Doe.”

“Doe?” Angel sure did like to repeat things back to me.

“You’re… Mr. Rashid?” I asked. _Smile, smile!_

“…Yes.” He’d stopped echoing me, but now there was a strange expression on his face that I couldn’t identify. He was probably working out how to politely excuse himself from my presence so that he didn’t catch the crazy.

Surprisingly, he took a seat on the couch adjacent to mine, which was when the shopkeeper finally came back to serve him that promised cup of tea. I also had mine refilled, and she let me know I had about another 15 minutes to wait.

“Are you...buying clothes here as well?” Angel asked me after the shopkeeper went back to the front.

As we were _in a clothes shop_ , and I was in the seating area meant for customers waiting on orders _in the clothes shop,_ I came to the conclusion that Angel sucked at small talk too. _Comrade~_ “Yes, I’m trading in this outfit for something more appropriate,” I replied.

“Appropriate?”

“If I go around town square dressed like this, I’d get overcharged just for looking at something.” Not to mention how stiff and awkward the vendors would be, which wasn’t exactly conducive to gossipin—networking.

Hey, I couldn’t rely on my Duchess title forever. Eventually Relena would come into the picture and Heero would become king, so I needed to establish connections now for my eventual life after their happily-ever-after.

“Do you often go around the town square?” Angel asked me.

“Yeah,” I answered, ignoring the little flinch he did. Maybe casual speech weirded him out. “At least a few times every month. I plan to visit the brewery on Kakashiri Street after this too. Have you tried their latest liquor?”

Angel still seemed a bit off-kilter but he gamely answered. “That new beverage – the one called whiskey?”

“Yeah, that one!” I nodded eagerly. “It’s a bit stronger than beer, right? But I really like the flavor!”

“I haven’t tried it yet.”

“Oh, did you want to come along and try some then? I’m good friends with the owner!” Since old Megumi got both the recipe and the distiller from me, she’d started treating me like a beloved grandson. Which was fine for me, because she gave me free drinks and had a cool eyepatch, and what’s better than a cool pirate-esque grandma who gave you free booze?

Angel looked like I’d asked him if he’d like to step on a bed of nails with his bare feet. He was quick to smother that expression with a brilliant smile, the sight of which kind of made me feel like I was being healed. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to accompany you, Mr.Doe,” he said, with a kind of steely determination. Was drinking whiskey like some test of courage for him?

“That’s great! You can just call me Doe, by the way.”

“Oh. Then you can just call me…Quatre.” That must be his first name. See, we’re friends already!

But just to be safe, because I wasn’t going to have another Trant Clark incident: “Nice to meet you, Quatre! Please remember I’m married.”

That strangled expression came back on his face. “…Yes.”

We soon stepped out of the clothing shop, me donned in my new plainclothes and Quatre with a package under his arm eyeing my outfit oddly. I had a sizeable coin pouch tucked away in my pockets too, so now I could splurge a bit on what I’d buy. I wonder if Quatre would be up for visiting the butcher shop too? I wanted to see Geralt’s boyfriend and see if I could glean any more juicy romance gossip.

A veritable tank given human form was standing right outside the shop, dressed similarly to Quatre if in a different color scheme.

“Ras- _Raoul_ ,” Quatre called out, eyes locked on the human fortress before he glanced at me. “Please give me a minute, Doe, I need to speak with my brother.”

Holy shit, that was his brother?! What did he do, sap all the burly genes while in the womb and leave Quatre with only the cute genes?!

“O-Okay,” I said. “I’ll go talk to my friend real quick, he’s waiting for me over there.” I motioned to the alleyway where Asahi was leaned against the carriage and talking to someone clearly trying to sell him some shoddy necklaces.

“Oh, there’s no need, just wait here,” Quatre said swiftly. “I’ll have my brother tell him where we’re going so he can meet us there with your carriage.”

Not wanting to hassle my new friend too much, I obliged and stayed put. Quatre went over to his brother, handing him the package and speaking very swiftly and intensely. The living blockhouse glanced over at me with a startled expression – was it my dandy looks? – before quickly nodding in agreement with whatever Quatre was saying.

Quatre came back, cherubic smile in place as his brother started to walk over towards Asahi. My eyes followed the citadel of mortal flesh until Quatre laid a friendly hand on my arm, catching my attention.

“You said the brewery was on Kakashiri Street?” he checked with me, pulling his hand away after a moment.

I put my game face on – time to embrace my new role as tour guide! I was going to introduce the angel to the world of hard liquor!

We started off down the street, but I couldn’t help one glance back to check on Asahi – except he, the carriage, and Quatre’s brother were no longer in view.

Well, at least Asahi would be happy to get out of the supposed shopping trip for now.

* * *

Kakashiri Street was home to Belladonna’s Brewery, and no, I was not ignorant to the strange naming. That was initially why I’d been drawn to it in the first place, except it was nothing more than a sales gambit to attract customers and there was no actual deadly nightshade being sold. Still, I’d endeared myself to the owner, old lady Megumi, and even got into the good graces of her niece, a bubbly woman by the name of Fiona who loved to gossip and manned the till.

“Honey, I’m home!” I called out as soon as I entered. Quatre tripped a little from a step behind me but I had most of my focus on the grinning Fiona. “And I brought a friend!”

“And where the hell have you been, brat?” old lady Megumi – better referred to as Granny Meg - came trotting out from the back, voice hard but her one visible eye soft.

“I got lost in a good book,” I told her wistfully.

Fiona’s grin turned wicked. “And here we thought you beloved husband returned home for a visit,” she leered with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows, implying loud and clear she thought I was being railed this whole time.

I slapped my hands over Quatre’s ears but he was already making a startled expression. “Hey hey, watch what you say! My friend here is as pure as the driven snow and can’t stand such dirty talk!”

Fiona cackled, unrepentant. “I guess that answers my question on if _this_ was your husband or not!”

“My husband isn’t blonde!” Going from the book description and from the painting in the study. Granted, paintings done during this time were like the medieval version of photoshop, so I wasn’t sure how closely it would resemble Heero, but at least it matched the book description enough that I knew he wasn’t light-haired. “He’s a brunet with dark blue bedroom eyes!”

Fiona couldn’t stop cackling. Like, full-on cackling, so I could understand Quatre’s strangled expression very well.

“Alright, shut up, the both of you,” Granny Meg cut us off. “You two boys here for business or just to annoy me?”

 _“You don’t love me anymore!”_ I cried out.

Granny Meg eyed me dispassionately. “Just to annoy me, I see,” she mused.

Actually, it was a good thing Quatre was here instead of Asahi. Asahi would just join in on roasting me.

“Quat here hasn’t tried whiskey yet,” I said, sweeping my hand over to him in a grand flourish. The poor guy just looked befuddled, which I could understand because Fiona was really weird. “I’m here to pop his whiskey cherry.”

Quatre’s attention snapped over to me so fast I was momentarily worried he’d get whiplash.

Fiona’s lips trembled as she choked down the laughter I could see in her eyes. “You just said no more dirty talk,” she pointed out, nearly breathless.

“I’m a hypocrite,” I said. “And not here so you can point out my many flaws.”

“Like how you look like you weigh about the same as three sacks of apples?”

 _Just rub salt in the wound right don’t you!_ “I’ve started working out!” I said defensively. “Just you wait, I’m gonna be as big as a brickhouse!”

“Uh huh,” Fiona snickered, waving me off to go help Granny Meg pull out a few bottles of whiskey. They’d started experimenting more with it nowadays so I think they were coming pretty close to making bourbon. At least they should be, else I was going to have to slip some recipes under their door sometime soon.

“You…work out?” Quatre asked me quietly, looking vaguely perplexed. I guess I could understand; I looked like a dandy, after all, and apparently the slender form was all the rage for dandies and their wannabes these days.

But it’s not like he knew I was an _actual_ dandy so that gave me some leeway here. “Yeah, I pretty much had to or else I might die,” I replied. _Since the novel seems to have it out for me._

Now Quatre looked alarmed. “Wh- Are you in _danger?”_

 _Yes_. “No, nothing that serious. It’s just…good to be healthy, you know?”

Quatre didn’t look convinced. Luckily, I didn’t have to continue convincing him as Granny Meg set some whiskey bottles and wooden cups down on the counter near us and beckoned us over. The first shot she poured us was the initial whiskey recipe I’d given them and currently their top-selling item. I took my proffered cup and swirled it around, holding it closer to my face to breathe in the smoky wood smell.

_Ahhh, that’s the good stuff!_

I glanced over at Quatre, who had mirrored my movements before taking a tentative sip. His eyes widened and he pulled the cup away from his face abruptly, his free hand coming up as if to touch his lips.

“Burns, doesn’t it?” Fiona teased him cheekily. “First sip is always the funniest to see!”

I grinned into my cup. She wasn’t wrong, but I felt a little bad about teasing Quatre even if it was in good fun. I took a leisurely sip of my drink, grin turning into something more sincere as I basked in the familiarity. It wasn’t as good as the brews back on Earth as their refinement process was a lot cruder, but it was still leagues better than their beer.

Quatre glanced at me, then with a determined look, took a longer sip. This one went down without issue, and he almost seemed to enjoy his third swallow.

Granny Meg replaced our cups with new ones and poured us more whiskey from a different bottle. “This is the rye-based one,” she told me.

I perked up in interest. “Oh ho, you finally took my advice and gave rye a try?” I’d introduced them to barley-based and corn-based whiskey so that scotch and bourbon became easier to develop, and then floated the idea of rye so they could work towards American whiskey.

“I take your advice often enough, brat,” Granny Meg scoffed. “Didn’t you see the distiller in the back, made from the blueprints you gave me?”

I very cheerfully did not look in Quatre’s direction at all. Maybe if I acted casually enough, he’d believe I had no idea what she was talking about and that I definitely did not just hand out distiller blueprints like candy.

“George said it’s revolutionary,” Fiona piped in.

 _George needs to keep his big mouth shut._ “It’s just a little distiller,” I said. “I’m glad you like it.”

I hurried to take a swig of the new whiskey she’d poured, Quatre following suit a lot more slowly. Once our cups were drained, Granny Meg poured the last bottle she had, the whiskey made from corn-base. I took my time to savor this one, although I could tell Quatre wasn’t a fan of it.

“First one, eh?” Granny Meg guessed, appraising the blonde.

He smiled at her guiltily but she only jerked her gaze around to me. “…and you, you like the corn-based one, eh?”

I fluttered my eyelashes prettily. “You can read me like a book,” I simpered. She rolled her eyes and turned around, pulling out the bottles we’d chosen.

“Were you returning home after this?” Quatre asked me quietly.

I finished off the last of my almost-bourbon. “Nah, I was gonna stop by the town market and grab some things to eat. Did you want to come?”

“If you don’t mind my company.”

“Not at all!” Yes, angel friend required! And he was such a breath of non-stalkery fresh air!

* * *

Asahi wasn’t in view outside of the brewery. I wasn’t too concerned – I knew how well-trained the Duchess Guard was now, so he was probably using his ninja powers or something. I led Quatre to the town square where the vendors were already loudly calling out their wares. I was friendly with most of them by now so I waved at their greetings as I took Quatre to the meat pie stall first.

“Don’t bother with his chicken & rabbit pie, we’re all convinced he’s being haunted by the pet rabbit he had as a kid that died tragically,” I told Quatre with a conspiratorial smile and loudly enough so that both Paul – the meat pie vendor – and the other customers in line could hear.

“Max, you sonuvabitch, get outta here,” Paul called out gruffly among his patrons’ laughter. “And for the last fuckin’ time, I ain’t never had a pet rabbit!”

“Every time you say that, the rabbit pie gets worse.”

“Just pick yer pie and go, asshole,” Paul sighed, lips traitorously twitching up into a smile.

Quatre glanced between us but dutifully made his selection, and together we walked off with a handful of meat pies between us. I treated him to skewers next – “Veggies and chicken only from here, Hilde says the pork could kill us.” _“…Hilde?”_ “Friend of mine, probably only keeping me alive so she can murder me herself later.” – and then we perused some of the artisan stalls, where I bought a few trinkets that Kaori and the other maids might like. Quatre was trying to help but everything about him screamed money, so we weren’t having much luck on getting them down to a reasonable price.

“Hey, Max! Hey!”

I glanced back at the familiar voice, still handing over the ten coins to the vendor for a 4-coin necklace. The one calling me was Gilbert, one of the merchants in town I had gotten to know - the former “snake oil salesman” who was now a fully-devoted perfumer - was making his way towards me, wide grin on his face. I rather liked getting along with all the vendors in the market, as they were often free with their words and told me every little rumor they heard that I could chase up later if needed, Gilbert being a prime example. He was the reason why I’d even known something dirty had gone down in the small village of Ishigaki with its slave-buying governor.

“Hi Gil,” I greeted him once he reached me, tucking my new necklace into my pocket. “…huh, you smell like…cinnamon?”

Gilbert grinned at me, almost manic in his cheer. “Damn, your nose never fails, does it? It’s my newest product – cinnamon-scented oil!”

I half-expected him to throw open his heavy cloak to reveal his wares, maybe even with a dozen wristwatches wrapped around his arm like one of those cliché sketchy salesmen. Instead, he pulled out a small, ornate vial from his pocket and handed it to me. “Go on, smell it – guess the scent!”

I uncorked it and took a small whiff. It was a strong, citrus-y smell. “…wait, is this _orange?”_ I asked.

“You got it!” Gil cheered.

Quatre’s eyes were very wide. “That must have been very difficult to get, since oranges don’t grow here…”

Gil waved him off with a hearty chuckle. “Trade secret, I’m afraid. You’re a new face though,” he said, giving Quatre a once over before looking back to me. “Aren’t you usually followed around by the girl with the murder-eyes?”

Nice to know that even other people could sense Hilde’s imminent threat. “He’s a new friend of mine, met him while shopping,” I replied.

“Oh! I thought he was that husband you mentioned before, I was just about to congratulate you on his return.” Why did everyone make it sound like I talked about Heero all the time?!

“My husband’s a brunet,” I grumbled. Quatre got that blanked-out expression on his face before he covered it up with an airy smile. _I can see right through you, Quat. I’m not just some lovesick fool always gushing about his husband, okay!_

Gil ignored me, digging through his pockets and pulling out another two vials. They looked similar to the cinnamon oil, meaning they were another medieval version of perfume. “Rose and honey-apple,” he said passing the two vials to me. “These perfumes have been selling like crazy! As soon as I have enough money to buy my own shop, I’ll make you an ever better thank-you gift but please take these for now.”

“…thank you,” I said, then looked up at him with a small grin. “We both know that if I use these, it’s just free advertising for you, isn’t it?”

I don’t think Gil even knew the definition of the word ‘embarrassment’. “Well, if that’s just how it works out, I can’t say that I mind…”

“Right,” I laughed with a shake of my head, uncorking the apple-honey one to take a whiff and passing it over to Quatre for him to try. “But thanks, I’m happy to take them.”

I paused, another idea coming to mind. Perfumes were for the body but they still didn’t have a lot of products for hair washing here. Lye was commonly used by both the peasantry and the nobility, although the latter would often indulge in baths of flower petals afterwards since lye was pretty abrasive. It also damaged hair so we tended to rely on washing our hair with water and then conditioning it with animal fat mixed with rose water, cloves, and nutmeg.

“Gil, would you be open to a new idea?”

Gil pulled out a scrap of parchment and a quill seemingly from one of his endless pockets, looking at me eagerly. _Alright, I guess those were the magic words._

“I want you to create a hair conditioner.”

Gil’s eyebrows furrowed. “Hair…conditioner?”

“Something that makes hair easy to brush through,” I told him. “And I want it to smell good.” Because if I had to keep using bacon fat on my hair, I was gonna scream.

Gil blinked. “Like a perfume, but for your hair?”

“Er, something like that, but more like something that makes hair silky and smooth, rather than just oily.”

Gil mumbled some ingredients under his breath, scratching something down on the parchment that looked ineligible to any eye not his own. “…soft but not greasy…we’d have to use a different oil base, otherwise the smells would interfere with each other…”

“If you’re up for it, I’m willing to make an investment,” I said. Quatre’s gaze was sharp and burning a hole on the side of my face, but I bravely ignored it.

“…there’s no point in doing further damage to the hair, so if we do use lye, we’d need something to counteract it…”

“…uh, Gil?”

“…the smell should be something we can change, so it shouldn’t be considered a base ingredient…”

“…you know what, I’ll just drop off the investment money later,” I chuckled, turning around to steer Quatre away. The blonde went easy, still gripping the honey-apple vial and now looking a bit shocked. I suppose the perfume was pretty well-made; even I was impressed Gil had refined the process to such a degree.

Since Quatre was looking a little parched and cafes hadn’t been invented yet (reminder to self: get on that!), we took a little break at Gin’s outdoor beer stall and seating area. I was already on pretty good terms with the beer vendors despite my inability to drink their goods; some took it as a challenge to refine their drinks, others just enjoyed heckling me since it provided free entertainment for their customers. Quatre had looked worried at the jeers but I did my best to assuage his fears – “They’re all bark and no bite, Quat, don’t worry!” _“Bold words from someone who can’t hold his drink!”_ “It tastes like _PISS_ and you know it, Marco!” – but this just resulted in another poleaxed look from the blonde.

After Quatre was politely served beer and I was faux-patronizingly given a cup of lemon water by the smirking Gin, my little angel friend decided he’d reached his limit on not questioning my every action. I wonder what it said about me that this wasn’t even an unexpected response to being in my presence anymore…

“Madame Megumi—” I choked a bit at him referring to Granny Meg so politely – god, “Madame”?? Granny Meg would hit him upside the head if she ever heard that! “—mentioned you gave her the new distiller she was using to craft whiskey. Did you have that made by someone in town?”

Oh, that’s right – Quatre was likely a merchant. I guess he smelled a business opportunity, or at least a business upgrade. “I gave her the blueprints and she had it constructed by the Engineering Guild and a local blacksmith. They did all the heavy lifting.”

“Where did you get the distiller schematics from?”

 _Why am I getting Hilde flashbacks?_ “Friend of a friend mentioned having whiskey and told me how it was made, so while I was trying to figure out how we could make it here, I kinda improved the distiller too.”

Quatre stared at me.

“It wasn’t that hard, I mean, it’s basically the same!” I rushed to explain. “Really, the hardest part was making sure that it heats up the mash enough to turn it into a vapor, and then having that vapor repeatedly condensed until it enters the chamber that turns it into a liquid.”

I drank a bit of my lemon water in thought. “Though the real struggle was getting everything mechanized. Everyone’s so used to doing it by hand but sometimes that can be dangerous – they might get burned during the fermentation process, or hurt if the distiller isn’t made properly to contain the vapor. That’s why I’m so glad the steam engine’s become such a popular topic! Now everyone’s super ready for any improvements to their tech.” I was going to drag the Yuy duchy into the industrial age, kicking and screaming if I had to.

“You’re familiar with the Taketoyo’s steam engine too?” Quatre asked me with wide, innocent eyes.

Oh you sweet summer child! “It’s awesome, right?! Have you been able to see one?”

“Yes, a friend of mine runs a steamboat out of that port and let me see it, it was very impressive…”

“Right, right?” I beamed. It was always nice to hear about the steam engine from the regular people of the duchy. Most of the staff knew the schematics came from me, but it felt weird when they complimented me about it, probably because Hilde looked like she wanted to throttle the answers out of me afterwards. “Steamboat engines only look complex, but once you figure out how to turn the steam pressure into a rotational force, you only have to figure out how much heat you need to keep it running! We’re using coal for now, but I’d really like to move past that into something less hazardous.”

Quatre was back to staring at me.

“And we don’t have a lot of coal mines in the province, so I’d rather not rely on imported goods for too long,” I continued because if he wasn’t going to stop me, I was more than happy to explain all the things I was worried about when it came to this “new” technology. “The next logical step is to use oil. That’s honestly just as dangerous but until we develop better technologies, it may have to serve as a placeholder.” At least until we could move along to more green energy.

“…Oil? Like cooking oil?” Quatre asked.

“No, this kind of oil is made from organic materials that have decayed for thousands of years and turned combustible. They’re in natural, underground deposits so we’d have to work on our drilling and mining tools too,” I replied, distracted by my own thoughts. We could use wind and water energy alongside the more environmentally-dangerous resources, but solar would take awhile longer. I also needed to start working on harnessing electricity, which meant I’d need to have someone start making me the parts for a prototype lightbulb.

“Where…did you hear about that kind of oil?” Quatre sounded like I’d just told him I did graverobbing in my free time.

“…Friend of a friend mentioned it,” I lied belatedly. Damn, so no one has discovered oil yet? Only a matter of time, most likely, but until someone dug deep enough to find some, we’d be stuck using coal for now.

“You certainly have a lot of friends,” Quatre remarked quietly. “Did a friend of yours tell you about the steam engines too?”

“Yes,” I lied again, because I had no qualms about lying to God or boys with angelic faces. “Aside from that—” Quatre’s lips twitched like he’d just choked down a laugh at my obvious redirection “—I also heard they’re developing a steam engine that could be used for transportation across land.”

“Oh?”

“We— _They’d_ have to lay down some tracks which would serve as the pathway for it, but apparently it’s something like a long series of carriages attached to each other, pulled forward by a front carriage powered by a large steam engine,” I explained, starting to get excited. I’d only told Heero about the possibility of a steam locomotive, and even that had been pre-emptively ended by a paranoid Hilde. “For the engine, we’d have to use high-pressure steam to increase its efficiency, but I think we can use a 0-2-2 wheel arrangement. With the wheel arrangement, we wouldn’t have to worry about the weight of coupling rods and can use something more lightweight for the second axel.”

“I see…”

“We’d also have to use a cylindrical boiler, ideally placed in the middle. Rather than a single pipe, it would have to be multi-tubular and carry the hot exhaust gas from the firebox in the rear through to the wet boiler and then to the blast pipe and chimney in the front.”

“R-Right…”

“The firebox will have to be double-walled with a water jacket between them, but we can use either wood or coal to power it. It will have to be a long firebox with a brick arch if we’re using coal though, otherwise it could be unsafe for the workers there.” I couldn’t wait until we moved past coal power!

“…”

“We can use wrought iron for the backhead and throat plate, with a copper drum plate between them so that it has a larger internal volume and is provides a space for better combustion.” Come to think of it, I’d also need to work on the blastpipe to make sure it didn’t consume too much fuel, otherwise we really would be dependent on the coal mines in other provinces.

“…Mr. Doe, you’re very… _enthusiastic_ about this, aren’t you?” Quatre mused delicately. It felt like being slapped back to reality – Quatre was a merchant and just wanted a pleasant chat about recent developments in trade, not a whole lecture on something that hadn’t actually been invented yet!

I blushed hotly. “Uh, yeah – engineering is just really interesting to me,” I replied. “Sorry for talking so much about it though.”

“Not at all, it was very fascinating. I must admit I didn’t understand all of it though…” Quatre said with chagrin. God, he’s adorable! That’s it, he’s getting a pen too. As a merchant, he should be interested in selling new and innovative products, right?

“Quatre, you’re a merchant, right?” I wanted to be sure before I started offering free ideas (plus the prototypes I had back in the estate) and investment money.

Quatre blinked. “…Something like that, yes,” he replied slowly. Probably just surprised I could tell.

“What kind of things do you sell?”

“My family has its hands in many different products and industries, so they sell just about everything that’s legal.”

 _Perfect!_ “Listen, there’s this new writing utensil I was thinking of promoting and if you’re interested, we can try and sell some to see if they’ll catch on—”

My words abruptly cut off as I felt a hard tug on my braid. I reflexively pulled my hair around to the front – I’d had more than a few idiots try to pull my hair in a fight when I was living back in New York – and whipped around to see if it somehow got caught on someone passing by.

While I was comfortable with most of the townsfolk that frequented the town square, that didn’t mean I knew them all. I always considered myself a friendly guy, you know? I was usually pretty good with faces and names, so I matched that with my natural extroverted personality and could usually sweet-talk my way into people’s good side. This wasn’t a surefire method however, and with my desire to pick fights with anyone twice my size, I could make just as many enemies as I could friends.

Which I guess is why the novel had to balance out my new friend Quatre with my new enemy, Asshole-Who-Can-Likely-Carry-Four-Sacks-of-Dinner-Potatoes (now forever known as Asshole).

“’Ello, beautiful,” Asshole grinned down at me sleazily. He was a bit red on the face so I guessed he was a patron of Gin’s awful beer, but he was steady on his feet and didn’t slur any words so he couldn’t be more than tipsy.

And he touched _my fucking hair._

“Piss off,” I growled back at him because why settle things peacefully when you can stupidly escalate. _He touched my hair!_

His smile dropped immediately. Behind him, I could see Gin start to notice something brewing over here but he wasn’t moving fast enough to stop Asshole from grabbing my arm to roughly jerk me up and closer. I could definitely smell the beer on his breath now due to the close proximity and recoiled, but his hand on me only tightened painfully. He was definitely gonna leave a bruise.

God, I’d never hear the end of it from Hilde.

I wanted to lash out but I didn’t want to cause more of a scene in Gin’s little outdoor venue. Quatre seemed to share the same idea, as he’d risen from his chair to approach us and laid a calming hand on the arm Asshole was using to accost me.

“Please let go of my friend,” he requested politely. I think Asshole would have scoffed at him for his manners, except there was just something vaguely worrying in the blonde’s tone. Not to mention Quatre’s bland, unsmiling expression – it was kinda creepy after all the smiles today.

Asshole rallied himself together admirably, his bruising hold only worsening and managing to elicit a wince from me. Curse other-me’s feeble arms, I hadn’t worked out long enough to bulk them out! “Your friend can—” His words cut off with a soundless gasp and he immediately let me go.

I didn’t understand why until I saw that Quatre’s hand had tightened around Asshole’s wrist, the skin under the blonde’s grip flush as the blood was cut off. Quatre’s creepy non-expression never wavered as he turned to kick the back of the man’s legs, forcing him to his knees all while maintaining his hold on the guy’s wrist.

“If you don’t learn to keep your hands to yourself, you may just lose them,” Quatre told the man evenly. “Leave now or I’ll rethink my decision to end this peacefully.” He glanced up but not to look at me or even the owner Gin, but past us; I turned to follow his gaze and saw Asahi storming forward, followed by Quatre’s mountain of a brother.

Quatre let go. Asshole, cradling his possibly-fractured wrist to his chest, fled like the fires of hell were licking at his heels. He ended up passing Asahi, whose eyes scanned him from head to toe, so I just knew he was mentally filing away the man’s description for later. I really would never hear the end of it from Hilde.

I glanced back at Quatre. He was straightening his vest casually, as if he hadn’t just fractured bone with his bare hands and threatened to cut off a guy’s limbs. I casually reminded myself that that _hadn’t_ been the coolest thing I’d ever seen and that Quatre should technically be considered creepy now instead of just kinda hot.

Why couldn’t Quatre be a dandy? Then I’d have another ally to add to my (newly-established) Dandy Advocate Group. We’d be unstoppable!

“Damn, Quat, do you have bulging muscles under all that pink?” was the first thing I could think of to say that wasn’t just a plea to conquer the world with me and unify all the dandies.

Quatre smiled at me pleasantly. Hm, that was definitely kinda creepy, but in retrospect, I did that too – so this only just confirmed that Quatre was at least a dandy on the inside. An honorary dandy, if you will.

Since it didn’t look like Quatre was going to do much more than shower me in his vengeful-angel smile, I was opening my mouth to continue my ‘pen’ sales pitch (or possibly convince him that nobility was just a title and dandyhood could be attained by anyone willing) when Asahi finally reached my side.

And then stepped up between my and Quatre, one arm out in almost a defensive stance.

“Asahi?” I stared at him in surprise. He wasn’t facing me though; he was looking at Quatre and his brother with a scowl on his face.

“We should go elsewhere,” Quatre said, not looking the least bit perturbed by my guard’s obvious wariness. He had a point; Gin and his customers, now that Asshole had left, had instead trained their attention on us in curiosity.

I made to dig out some coins to pay for our drinks but Quatre got to it first, leaving them on the table and then leading us away with his brother in tow. He fell back half a step to allow the older man to lead, although Asahi maintained his human barrier position between me and the blonde. _Someone_ was certainly riled.

We stopped in an alleyway where Asahi had clearly parked the carriage, although there were a handful of older men I didn’t recognize that were also dressed in clothing similar to Quatre’s. It was obvious they knew each other since they bowed politely to the angel, and it was then Asahi stopped me so that we didn’t stand too close to them.

“You don’t need to be so cautious, Asahi,” Quatre said kindly, turning around when he noticed we weren’t closing the distance between us and them.

“Please excuse my rudeness,” Asahi retorted in a cutting tone. “But your men _abducted_ me.”

“What?” I gaped. “ _Abducted_ \--?”

Quatre’s older brother chuckled. “Calling it ‘abduction’ is a bit dramatic, isn’t it, Asahi? It was more like a game of hide-and-seek.”

“I am His Grace the Duchess’s _guard_. You took him elsewhere and led me on a wild goose chase!”

“They did what?!” Is that why Asahi wasn’t waiting outside of Granny Meg’s brewery?

Actually, _wait_ – did Asahi just out my true identity to Quatre and his men? And did they already know each other, or had Quatre just overheard me calling Asahi’s name?

“About His Grace the Duchess,” Quate said, glancing to me. His creepy non-smile was back too. “We had a wonderful time together, but I’m afraid he seems a bit…odd.”

Wow, I’m _right_ _here_. Quatre was going to lose his angel status pretty quickly if he kept talking about me and not to me.

Quatre’s eyes drilled creepily into Asahi’s waxen face. “In fact, it was almost like His Grace _didn’t even recognize me_.” His tone implied he suspected why.

Which probably wasn’t good for me, but also, was I _supposed_ to know him?

A horrible idea came to mind. I grabbed the back of Asahi’s shirt. “Asahi,” I hissed. “Please, _please_ tell me that he is not my _other affair!”_

Asahi’s head whipped around to stare down at me in matching horror. Oh shit, I had just gotten rid of Trant Clark! And Quatre came with five men that had given even a Duchess Guard the runaround! Maybe we could just outrun them?

My plans to flee from the scene with the possible use of a Molotov cocktail were cut short when I saw the shocked expression on Quatre’s face. He also looked a bit horrified too, which honestly kinda hurt my feelings; I wasn’t ugly! And I had a decent personality! I mean, I was married, but that was only until Heero finally met Relena. I was still a decent catch!

Quatre’s brother looked horrified as well, so I guess Quatre wasn’t my second paramour. That or he was just horrified that I admitted to having an affair. Well, he shouldn’t be part of this conversation if he didn’t want to be mortified, his little brother nearly tore off some guy’s limbs just for getting touchy with me!

“No, Your Grace, he is not,” Asahi said. _Oh thank god._

Quatre was staring at me very hard. I tugged Asahi back a step; Quatre was cute and all but he was clearly pretty dangerous. Asahi didn’t look inclined to getting out his sword either, so I didn’t know if this was because he knew them or he was underestimating them.

“You really don’t recognize me, do you, Your Grace?” Quatre murmured.

I felt the insane need to apologize. Asahi stepped fully in front of me before I could vocalize it though, blocking me from Quatre’s analytical gaze. “We should return to the estate,” Asahi said. “Mr. Howard and Miss Hilde can explain everything, Master Winner.”

…

…what did he just call Quatre?

“Yes,” _Master Quatre Winner_ smiled back at us. “I think that would be a good idea.”

_Revoked! I’m immediately revoking his honorary dandy status!_

* * *

**A/N** : It’s all fun and games until someone is given a lecture on steam locomotives and another person is outed for having amnesia 😂

 _Please be kind and **drop a comment and kudos!**_ **:)**


	14. Arc I, Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Duo** : :)  
>  **Quatre** : :)  
>  **Duo** : :)  
>  **Quatre** : :)  
>  **Everyone else** : _please end this hell_

**A/N** : It’s been awhile but this chapter is twice the usual length so truce? (Also, please do not get used to this chapter length, I think I was just possessed while writing it.)

* * *

**Chapter 14**

* * *

There wasn’t a lot to do except sit in my carriage and think while we made our way back to the Yuy estate. Asahi was driving and Quatre and his men had their own horses, so I got time to myself within the carriage. I could glance out the window at the passing view but Quatre rode at the side and seemed attuned to my every move, meeting my eyes whenever I chanced a look outside.

I knew I could only take my ‘amnesia’ so far.

It explained the gaps in my memories but not everything else – like the engineering, or the change in tastes or personality. I’d managed to bluff my way through Hilde’s suspicions, but something told me Quatre wouldn’t be so accommodating. I guess the novel got tired of me surviving its bullshit and sent me Quatre.

So now how was I going to work this…?

There was a small army greeting us by the time we reached the front steps of the main residence, Hilde at the front of it looking as murderous as ever. She only became more incensed as she took in Quatre’s party effectively escorting my carriage towards them. I had never wanted to live in my carriage more.

Howard looked like he’d been swallowing lemons prior to our arrival, although he and the rest of the staff – even Hilde! – gave Quatre little bows in greeting. Quatre and his men disembarked from their horses and Asahi looked ready to help me off the carriage but was beat there by Hilde, who was definitely glaring at me. _I wanted to live in my carriage!!_

“Welcome back, Master Winner,” Howard said, lemon-sour face only vaguely haunting his smile.

Quatre’s smile was bright. “Thank you, Mr. Howard, it’s so good to be back!”

Uh-huh, sure it was.

“Thank you for escorting the Duchess back as well,” Howard continued. Hilde breathed a little heavier next to me in her effort to control herself and not wring my neck.

“It was no trouble at all, I was fortunate enough to run into His Grace in the town square,” Quatre answered. “I accompanied him on his…shopping trip.”

Hilde glared at me. “Did you recognize him?” she asked me in a whisper.

“…Not until it was too late,” I whispered back.

To be fair to me though, it wasn’t like Quatre exactly matched his book description. The blonde hair and blue eyes were the same but that wasn’t too unusual here. Master Winner in the novel was known for a garish scar that laid horizontal across his throat, as if someone had tried to slash his neck open. The novel had never mentioned his overwhelming cuteness either, which felt very unfair in hindsight.

“You must be tired from your journey,” Howard was saying. “We maintained your rooms in your absence so please feel free to rest.”

Quatre’s smile didn’t lose even an ounce of cheer. “Oh, I’m not tired at all. In fact, if you’re free, I’d like to speak with you and Miss Hilde about something.”

I could not more obviously be that ‘something’. That’s it, I’m officially revoking his angel status too!

It was obvious that Quatre had the lead here. If this continued on, we’d all be sequestered in different rooms for interrogation. I had to get the upper hand back, and to do so – I needed to draw on every dandy Duchess lesson I’d ever learned from Lady Aurora.

_Time to shine._

“Before we have a meeting, there are some things we need to take care of first!” I announced, strutting forward with Lady Aurora’s cutting remarks about my posture haunting my every step. “Now that Master Winner has returned, we mustn’t be negligent in our duties!”

Everyone stared at me in surprise. I smiled at Quatre, turning up the wattage by several degrees. “We must of course celebrate your return with a magnificent feast,” I told him.

“That’s quite alri—”

“It would have been better to let us know of your return earlier, of course,” I cut him off, voice light and airy and not at all implying that he had been incredibly rude in not sending prior notice of his arrival via messenger as was customary for all returning forces. “But I understand you had just been _so excited_ to come home quickly, isn’t that right, Master Winner?”

Quatre’s smile froze on his face, gaze turning calculating. Damn, he’d caught on earlier than expected.

“Apologies for not sending prior notice,” Quatre stated. “In light of this oversight, you don’t need to concern yourself with a celebration—”

 _Oh no you fucking don’t, Quat!_ “Nonsense!” I cut him off again. “It would be a great insult to not provide our hardworking men a good meal!”

“…Sorry to trouble you.” _Score for me!_

I turned to Howard. “Please inform the kitchen of our change in menu. As it’s already quite late in the day,” _You didn’t even give us enough time to prepare a more fitting meal,_ was obviously implied there. “The feast will have to be for tomorrow, but please make sure there’s enough food for Master Winner and his men.”

“O-Of course, Your Grace,” Howard said.

I glanced around, eyes finally finding Jiroh – one of the butlers of the estate. “Jiroh, please notify Catherine at the stables to be prepared to help Master Winner’s horse and the horses of his men.”

“Yes, Your Grace!”

I turned my eyes to the next person. “Kaori, can you—"

With this, I effectively started handing out jobs to the servants still clustered around the entrance. Quatre could only stand nearby and watch me work; it would be impolite to demand my attention in this circumstance, and until I was finished, he couldn’t ask any of the servants for a meeting until he was sure they didn’t have to prioritize my orders first.

By the end of my flurry of orders, the only ones left standing in the entrance were myself, Quatre, Quatre’s not-brother, Hilde (who informed me via eye contact that she was not going to leave my side), Mikhail (eyeing Quatre and his attendant stonily), Commander Broden (muttering something under his breath that I was actively refusing to hear), and Asahi (who tried to flee but was halted by the furious glare Mikhail turned on him). I also think I saw Sayaka crawl up the manor walls, but I stared very hard in the other direction so I didn’t have to deal with that for now.

Now that we were on a good foot, time to get the real party started.

I turned to Quatre with a bright grin. “Master Winner – if you don’t wish to retire to your room for a short rest, would you mind joining me for a cup of tea?”

I could hear Hilde’s sharp inhale next to me. Too bad for her, nothing and no one could stop me now. And it wasn’t like we could just put this off indefinitely – Quatre would eventually corner one of us down. I had to strike while the iron was hot.

Quatre smiled back at me gently. “I would love to! Thank you, Your Grace.”

_Geez, he’s really good at this…_

I had one of the nicer rooms prepared for us and one of the rarer teas we had served, along with some desserts. We parted ways briefly to change clothes before reconvening in the parlor, although I made sure I arrived first to establish I was the one welcoming him and not the other way around.

“I’d like to speak with Master Winner alone,” I said, glancing at the only other people in the room with us: Hilde, Mikhail, and Quatre’s not-brother (the actual Mr. Rashid). Hilde looked like I’d asked to be left alone with a serial killer but she obediently followed my command. Mikhail actually scanned the room for threats first before following her, and Mr. Rashid trailed after them after Quatre waved him off.

Quatre took a slow sip of his tea. Despite the gentle look on his face, I could tell he was ruminating over my choice not to allow Hilde to take part in this discussion. It may have been a lot easier to allow Hilde or Howard to have this talk with him; they knew him better than I did and could probably come up with something to deflect his inquiries, but only I knew how badly I’d butchered my first meeting with him today and how incongruent that would fit with his image of other-me.

While this may not have been a real issue with others previously, Master Winner was different. He wasn’t one of the main characters, but he was still a major supporting character in the book – this gave him a lot more weight than background characters like Hilde or Howard, much less dead background characters like myself or Meilan.

Master Winner was the master strategist of the novel. He was the one to help Relena outmaneuver the likes of Dekim Barton and Treize Khushrenada, who developed the battle tactics employed by Heero against the forces of Oz and Romefeller. His intellect and knack for strategy were frightening enough, but paled in comparison to the real reason why I was hesitant to let Hilde field this conversation.

Quatre Winner was a goddamn _psychic_.

It had never been explicitly stated in the novel, but all the evidence was there: the frankly astounding leaps in logic that always turned out right, the ability to just know when Relena (or Heero) were hitting roadblocks in their relationship, or even if someone was not telling the whole truth. It wasn’t telekinesis or the ability to read minds – if I had to label it, it was a something like empathy, the ability to feel and understand another person’s emotions.

So the trick to dealing with Quatre was something only I could do.

“You’re suspicious of me, aren’t you?” I asked him frankly, because if you can’t lie to Quatre – then hit him with honesty like a sledgehammer.

Quatre blinked.

“Of course you are,” I nodded, taking his silence as a yes because if I let him get a word in edgewise too early then I’d lose control of the conversation. “Why wouldn’t you be? I completely messed this up.”

“Oh?” Quatre’s eyes were particularly steely. “I don’t quite understa—”

“I have amnesia.”

That shut him right up.

“I remember very little from before the greenhouse fire,” I continued because Quatre was still staring at me like I’d suddenly proclaimed myself king of all dandies. “At first, I didn’t know where I was or even who I was, but a few bits and pieces came back after a couple of weeks. After that, though, it’s been nothing – Doctor Po thinks the amnesia is permanent now.”

“…Amnesia,” Quatre echoed. His voice was calm and even; his eyes were doubtful.

_Time to sell it!_

“To be honest, I don’t really understand how it all works either,” I admitted to him, eyes widening in earnest. It’s not like I was lying, technically speaking. “It’s like knowing some obscure facts off the top of my head but no idea how they got there. After I regained some of my memories, I knew that Heero was my husband and some of my…conduct…during my time here prior to the fire, but nothing very detailed.”

“But—”

“I know what Heero looks like because of his portrait in the study,” I cut him off ruthlessly. _Now’s not the time for your questions, Quat!_ “I know I ch-cheated on him at least twice, but I don’t know with who. I had to learn– _re-learn_ everything about Sanc, the Yuy province, and even this estate so I could figure out what was going on.”

Quatre’s brows furrowed but he kept his mouth shut. I guess he figured out that I wasn’t going to let him speak until I was done.

“But I don’t only have these, er, random facts just floating up in my head every now and then,” I continued on, trying to sound as frazzled as I really felt. “There were also some things I just already knew – like fiscal management, or how to make a distiller.”

Quatre stared at me. “…You gave me an impassioned description of a new steam engine invention just two hours ago. That was something you just _knew?”_

 _I think I just heard every mechanical engineer cry out at once._ “Well, it was more like I just knew how to make a steam engine and enough foundational knowledge to build up from that to _hypothetically_ make a steam locomotive,” I lied flawlessly. “I don’t know where the foundation came from though.”

Quatre’s brows furrowed again. “So you just _know_ some things and not others?”

“Yes!”

Quatre leaned back in his chair, expression contemplative. I waited with baited breath – this was the deciding moment. Either I laid out just enough of my ‘conditions’ to get this to work, or this all blows up in my face and Quatre beheads me where I sit.

I’m not kidding about the beheading part either – for all his angelic looks, Quatre was a straight-up monster in a fight. He probably _had_ broken that man’s wrist back in town square for getting handsy with me even though he’d been holding back; the pure physical strength of those considered to be in Heero’s “inner circle” was insane.

“Initially,” Quatre began. “I thought you may have been a body-double – but I know that Hilde or Mr. Howard would never do or accept something like that. Their loyalty to the Duke is unquestionable. But I’d never thought you would have developed amnesia.”

I shrugged, keeping silent.

There was no way I could physically overpower Quatre. It was also extremely unlikely I could outmaneuver him or feed him a long-term falsehood, so what I had to do is lay the groundwork…

“But this does answer some of the lingering questions I had,” Quatre mused. “If you don’t remember the context of your particular circumstances, I can see how your attempts to reach out to others is different to how you did before.”

…and give him all the ‘facts’ without telling him too many overt lies, throwing these pieces of almost-truths at him like a collection of shiny jigsaw pieces with no clear end picture. He had to put them together himself, never once realizing that the pieces I gave him may not even all be from the same puzzle and so the picture they made after he was finished fitting them together was not the picture it should have been.

The trick to beating Quatre is letting Quatre beat himself.

“But what about the foundational knowledge I have?” I asked him in concern. _Please tell me what excuse I have for that, Quat._

“We can assume that knowledge was kept, along with your ability to read, write, and speak our language,” Quatre said. Come to think of it, I was literate here. Everything looked to be in English so I never questioned it. “If you already knew engineering and fiscal management, then whatever you were thinking before that stopped you from sharing that knowledge has been forgotten, so you’re sharing it now as it comes to you.”

So what – he thinks other-me knew how to make steamboats all along but never shared that information because he hated Heero that much? Damn, that’s kind of intense. It’s almost like I purposely sabotaged the Yuy province’s progress with my inaction.

“I wonder where I learned engineering,” I mused. Fiscal management could be explained by other-me’s Duchess studies – since Duchesses were responsible for the estate management so it wasn’t that far of a reach. I didn’t think Quatre would actually know where I learned engineering, but me verbally wondering about it would reinforce the image of me just being at the mercy of my foundational knowledge.

“Oh, you likely learned from your family,” Quatre replied brightly.

I stared at him. “…the Maxwell family?”

Quatre nodded.

_Were they renown engineers or something?!_

“I don’t really… remember much about my family,” I admitted to him. Hilde had said I had a father and an older brother, but since other-me was married off to a guy he hated for a political marriage, I hadn’t thought we were that close.

“The Maxwell ducal family is known for their intelligence network,” Quatre told me blithely. “Infiltration, sabotage, and assassination are their strong suits.”

….What?

“You may have studied engineering while with them. I hadn’t thought you would have been so taken with the subject, but clearly you were. I wonder if any other skills carried over as well…”

_What?!_

Was… Was Quatre just fucking with me? I eyed him suspiciously.

“It’s not common knowledge,” Quatre assured me with that ever-present smile of his. “But as we are the military arm of the kingdom and close friends with Duke Maxwell, we were made aware of your family’s true occupation.”

I stared at him.

I swear there was nothing about this in the novel. The only thing mentioned about the Maxwell family was that they were allies of the Yuy family, supporters of Relena’s eventual bid for queenship, and that the second child had been Heero’s first spouse. I definitely would have remembered if it had mentioned a fictional family with the same surname as me being medieval secret agents!

And when the hell had an intelligence network been used in the novel?! True, there had been the political drama of the court Relena had been subjected to, and the battles with Romefeller and Oz – but the latter had never gone into too much detail, as the focus of the novel had been on the romance. The war was practically a backdrop to Heero’s and Relena’s developing love story.

Not to mention that, as far as infiltration went, that had been Knight Commander Barton’s specialty. He personally trained the soldiers that specialized in spying, so what need could another intelligence-oriented family serve in the plot?

And shouldn’t this information just have made Quatre more suspicious? If I was from some crazy spy family, then wouldn’t he suspect I’m faking all of this? I mean, to a degree I _was_ faking it – but he wasn’t supposed to know that!

“By the way, is this mint tea?” Quatre asked me pleasantly. “It’s wonderful!”

_God he’s so cute, I just wanna hug him!_

…So this is why Quatre is such a dangerous character…

* * *

Quatre was so cute that I just wanted to _strangle him._

I never really understood the differences between how a dandy was treated in comparison to how most nobles were treated. The closest person to my position of power had been Meilan, who kicked the shit out of the knights under the excuse of ‘training’. The other ladies of my tea parties weren’t technically even nobles, and the only noble I had met had been Trant Clark; I would never dare use that interaction as a baseline example for how to treat other nobles.

Thus, Quatre was the first proper noble I’d ever properly met. He may be from a foreign country, but he was still of a noble class. From what I understood, he was closer to the title of Count, although in reality his family’s economic power was more in line with a ducal family. As such, he’d been well-trained in etiquette since birth and this was no more obvious than now.

 _“It’s a bit too chilly for a garden stroll today,”_ Quatre had said, unknowingly vetoing my plan for a quick jaunt to the garden to see if Esther managed to actually get the mustard seed to grow. (We’d been stealthily planting crops in the garden as this was one of my several backup plans to expand my culinary options.)

 _“A tea break would be lovely right about now, wouldn’t you say?”_ he’d advised, pulling me away from my review of the town of Kotohira’s tax records. My hesitation to leave my work was waved off; he’d go through it himself later, after all, and the management of the duchy’s finances technically fell under his job description rather than my own.

 _“Your tutor’s a bit busy today, perhaps we should just go for a light walk around the grounds?”_ he’d suggested after turning up at my physical training session. Geralt, a barely-visible figure in the distance half-hidden behind a tree, gazed over at us with saddened puppy eyes.

Listen, I know I said I really wanted Quatre back here to help – but now I just wanted him to go back to Heero. This wasn’t even him being a mother hen, this was him being _fucking patronizing!_ For all his dandy looks, I definitely wasn’t going to spare him when the time came for a dandy revolution!

“Do you think he’s doing it on purpose?” I bemoaned to Hilde, idly picking straw out of my braid.

Hilde’s flat expression looked especially sinister in the shadows of the stable’s interior. This was quite impressive because she was sat next to me on a bale of hay, making sure to keep out of sight of the stable door so that no one could see us if they glimpsed inside.

“He’s just showing you proper courtesy as the dandy of the house,” Hilde told me, as she’d painstakingly explained to me for the past week again and again.

It’s not my fault Quat’s manners were more like some kind of sick punishment game.

“He won’t let Geralt teach me anything but how to do a light jog,” I said bitterly. I had worked so hard to earn the right to physical training too!

Hilde was unimpressed. “Maybe you should consider this to be training in how to run _away_ from dangerous things instead of trying to _fight_ them,” she said coolly.

“Why do I bring you along again?”

“The alternative would be Lady Meilan, and she would just challenge Master Winner to a duel.”

A thoughtful look crossed my face. I hadn’t considered using Meilan as a weapon against the affable Quatre, but maybe—

“ _No_ ,” Hilde cut into my thoughts with finality.

I pouted. “You like Quatre more than me, don’t you, Hilde?!”

“I wouldn’t bother hiding out in a stable with Master Quatre for two hours.”

Aww, she really does care about me!

“I have been meaning to ask, Your Grace,” Catherine – the stableman – began tentatively. She was also an (unwilling) party member to my hideout in the stables, as I knew I couldn’t trust her to not tell people where I was. Connor and the other stableboy, Nathan, were acting as my little lookouts; they were keeping watch, all under the guise of doing their chores. “Why did you choose to hide here?”

“It’s important to bond with horses, right?” I said. “They can see your souls or something.”

Catherine stared at me. Hilde didn’t even bother with a response.

“I believe you’re thinking about familiars, Your Grace.”

I glanced up. Mifune dropped down from the ceiling, landing softly beside me. “Familiars are animal-like in appearance but have abilities beyond our realm, and essentially bond with their partner’s soul,” she continued.

“Wait a second, was she in the _rafters_ —"

“But magic isn’t real,” I interrupted, cutting through Catherine’s startled exclamation. No good would come of questioning the knights of the Duchess Guard. (Sometimes I could still hear Asahi’s screams of terror throughout the day, a result of having failed to “protect” me from Quatre.) I turned an accusatory look on Hilde. “You said magic wasn’t real!”

“It’s not,” Hilde replied with a sigh. “Despite what some people claim—”

“There’s magic in everything,” Mifune interjected dreamily. “There have been stories of people wielding magic and bonding with familiars—”

“Fairy tales!” Hilde said heatedly.

“There’s historical sightings of magnificent beasts—”

“—any fool can claim to see a wyvern when facing a lizard—”

“—the ruins of Libra are evidence of—”

“—absolutely ridiculous—”

I inched closed to Catherine. This was clearly a hot button between the two women, and one I never meant to press. For her part, Catherine just looked mildly disgruntled, although she gamely turned to me in a clear show of refusing to join in the debate.

“You have hay in your hair, Your Grace,” she said with a soft frown.

“I’m starting a new fashion trend.”

The corners of her lips traitorously twitched upwards as she fought a smile. “Here, allow me…” She reached forward and pulled my braid closer to her, deft fingers quickly but gently relieving my hair of its unwanted additions. “Your Grace, if I may speak freely…?”

“Huh? Oh, sure,” I waved her on. I almost forgot what it was like to not have someone speak their mind freely to me. The knights had stopped holding back, I couldn’t get Kaori and the other maids to stop, and Hilde’s eyes said more than enough.

“If it’s any consolation to you, Your Grace, I believe Master Winner is treating you this way because he believes it’s the way you prefer to be treated,” Catherine explained, soulful gray eyes latched onto my hair. “He painstakingly studied the mannerisms and etiquette of the Sanc court in order to better get along with you.”

…why could I hear a silent _‘since you were an asshole and no one else could bear to spend time with you,’_ at the end there?

“His behavior is exemplary, especially as a noble from a foreign state,” Catherine continued on. “He’s dutiful and has always shown you respect and kindness.” _Despite how rudely you treated everyone, you piece of shit_ , was again silently tacked on at the end _._ I stared at Catherine, then glanced back at Hilde who was still arguing before turning my gaze back to Catherine.

_Holy shit, there’s two of them!_

“You’re quite…” I struggled to find another word for ‘ _defensive’_ , “…knowledgeable about Master Winner, Miss Catherine. You know him well?”

“…You can just call me Catherine, Your Grace,” was her reply. “And yes, I’m lucky enough to call Master Winner my brother-in-law.”

I froze. “What?”

Catherine had a constipated look on her face, almost like she couldn’t believe I didn’t know this. “Commander Barton is my younger brother, Your Grace,” she said patiently, although her eyes were definitely showing signs of homicidal tendencies. “They were married three years ago.”

Wait, _what?_ Master Winner and Commander Barton are married? I don’t think I ever read about that in the novels! I mean, there was some chemistry there but they were only supporting characters and nothing was ever confirmed. I just thought the author had been queerbaiting.

“Why are you working in the stables?” fell out of my mouth first. Wouldn’t being Commander Barton’s sister make Catherine’s status closer to that of Commander Broden’s wife, Lady Fuyunari, or even Lady Meilan’s?

Catherine tensed up. “I like horses,” was her swift answer, eyes challenging.

I wasn’t really concerned with her defensiveness, preoccupied with flashing an accusatory look at Hilde. “Oh, I see,” I grumbled. “So if a lady wants to work with horses or practice martial arts, it’s fine, but if _I_ want to learn self-defense, that’s just _too much_ …”

Catherine blinked. “Um…”

“No no, it’s fine,” I continued. “It’s great that you get to make a living doing something you’re passionate about. I mean, I just want to make sure I live to see another day so I thought – hey, why not learn to defend myself? But I guess that was just crazy talk.”

“Uh…”

“I should just embrace death with open arms, right? Die young, leave a pretty corpse and all that.”

Hilde sighed from behind me. “Your Grace,” she began. “You have at least two guards on you at all times now, so we just don’t see the need in training you for self-defense.”

“…what do you mean, _two?”_

Berion then dropped down from the ceiling.

I remained frozen, eyes locked incredulously on Hilde. “I thought we agreed that one guard was enough while I was on estate grounds?!”

“That was before you snuck out to the town square with only one guard and _got accosted by a local thug_.”

Asahi, you goddamn traitor! I hope Commander Broden is putting you through training HELL!

Before I could begin to defend myself, Connor’s brash tones reached our ears. He wasn’t in our line of sight, concealed as we were in the very back of the stables, but when the kid was under pressure his voice level tended to rise like he wanted to shout the problem away.

“G-Good afternoon, Master Winner, s-sir! Wh-What brings youse to o-our humble barn?”

I choked down a giggle. Connor’s acting was terrible but _goddamn_ was it entertaining.

“Good afternoon, you must be new!” I could practically feel the sunshine pouring out in Quatre’s voice. _Be strong, Connor!_ “I was wondering if you’ve seen His Grace the Duchess?”

“I’ve ne’er seen that man once in my life,” Connor replied vehemently. I nearly choked - has the kid been reading crime novels or something?!

“…I see.” Quatre’s ability to keep his composure was really something else. “Then do you know where Miss Cathy is…?”

“I’ve ne’er seen that woman once in my life.”

“…you’ve never seen the _stableman?”_

Catherine stood up, heading outside to save Connor from himself.

“Master Quatre,” Catherine’s voice floated back to us.

Quatre’s joy was palpable. “Cathy!”

“Oh, you mean _that_ Miss Cathy…” God, Connor, just give it up.

I turned to my co-conspirators. “Is there any other way out of here?” I asked. Both Mifune and Berion pointed upwards, but Hilde shot that idea down with a brilliant glare. I guess in hindsight, hiding out in a place with only one door wasn’t the best idea. My college professor always did say that if I was on the run, I should stay in a place with more than one exit.

“I have a feeling you’re thinking something dangerous,” Hilde muttered.

“Don’t worry about it,” I waved her off.

Quatre’s voice broke through our escape plans. “Cathy, have you seen the Duchess?”

I couldn’t trust Cathy to hold the line. To think, a spy had been in our midst – if I’d known she was related to Quatre in some way, I wouldn’t have hidden out at the stables.

“I’ve never seen that man once in my life,” was Catherine’s answer.

I stared at the hay. Does it do something to their brains?!

Quatre didn’t reply to that. I guess even he had his limits.

* * *

I had successfully evaded Quatre for the better part of the week. This was mostly due to Hilde’s help, since it turned out she was not a fan of barn squatting. I’d become somewhat of a normal fixture in the knights’ training grounds as it was one of the few places Quatre or his men never thought to look for me, and Commander Broden was more than happy to show me around.

It was really hard to look my guards in the eyes for awhile after that.

There were some unavoidable tasks that had to be done within the manor walls though; Quatre had resumed his work as a financial advisor and took back his position overseeing the duchy’s budget, but I still had the responsibility of managing the estate’s funds. While working, Quatre was sequestered away in his own office in the manor (which I didn’t know existed previously) so I was usually left unbothered, but he finished far more quickly than my small army of accountants – which left him plenty of time to hover over me.

It was never described in much detail where Heero had picked up his band of merry men. As the illegitimate heir of the Yuy ducal family, he hadn’t been well-liked by the other nobles of Sanc and so his ability to draw talented people from their lines was hampered.

Fortunately, Heero’s work on the frontlines put him in heavy contact with people of lands who didn’t share the same prejudice. There was Chang Wufei and his wife Meilan, from a seclusive town in Lagrange; Trowa Barton, a former mercenary initially raised in the wilds of the barbarian territory; and then Quatre Winner, son of one of the richest noble families of Lagrange.

They’d all sworn loyalty to Heero by the start of the novel, and served as his closest friends and confidantes. (With the exception of Meilan, who died via backstory.) They may not have been main characters, but they were considered major supporting characters and pretty much acted as one-man armies that further boosted Heero’s esteem as the main love interest. They each, in turn, came to show Relena that same level of trust and loyalty.

Which is why I only expected the barest minimum of loyalty to me – the unfaithful husband of Heero.

“What…is that?”

Quatre’s smile was heavenly. “Shotels,” he answered brightly as my eyes drilled into the two long, curved blades holstered on his back, the handles of which peeked out from over the top of his shoulders. “I’m proficient with them, do not worry, Your Grace.”

 _Your proficiency is the last thing I’m worried about!_ I read the novel, I knew exactly how damn “proficient” he was – he was a goddamn living weapon with them!

“We’re going to the town market,” I said, instead of the ‘oh my god I know I said you looked like an angel but I meant the innocent cherub version, not the warrior of god version’ in my throat. “Not to battle…”

Quatre chuckled like I’d said something funny. “Of course, Your Grace!”

He made no move to pass his weapons to Rashid. I stared at him, turned to look at Hilde who was looking out the window and clearly didn’t want to be involved in anything between myself and Quatre, then turned back to Quatre.

“I think it’s fine if he brings them,” Meilan piped up. “Knowing you, it’s better to have more protection than less.”

I glared at her. “We’re going to the _town market_. I’ve been perfectly fine there so far!”

Meilan knocked twice on the wooden banister, Hilde knocked on the window frame, Howard knocked on a nearby side table, and both of my guards – Mikhail and Sayaka – knocked on the wooden wall lining. Commander Broden even went to knock twice on a doorframe. Quatre seemed startled by their sudden actions, but I couldn’t fault him for that – it’s not every day you could witness so many people stab me in the back like this.

“You know what? I don’t care. Bring whatever,” I grumbled. “Bring a live bear for all I care.”

Commander Broden perked up.

“ _Do not_ bring a live bear,” I immediately amended.

Now Quatre just looked alarmed. _Good, now he knows how I’ve been feeling all this time._

* * *

“We’ll start with lunch first,” I said as we all filed out of the carriage. Given the limited space, my little market-going party consisted only of myself, Hilde, Meilan, Quatre, Mikhail and Sayaka as guards, and Gary the carriage driver. For their part, my usual crew just nodded absently as they scanned the crowded town square, although Quatre looked rather excited.

“Oh, are we having meat pies?” Quatre asked me.

Meilan scowled. “His Grace the Duchess likes meat pies. He takes everyone there,” she told him testily.

Quatre smiled at her. It was…unsettling.

“Don’t worry, guys, I’m sure Paul has enough meat pies for all of us,” I sighed. Why the hell were they getting defensive over meat pies?

Behind us, Mikhail stifled a snicker. I ignored him.

We made a beeline for the meat pie stall. As usual, I was the one placing the order, but before I could pay for it – Quatre handed over the payment. I tried not to pay it any mind but Paul (the vendor) looked a little surprised. Probably because of the shotels.

“By the way, Max, heard ya had a run-in with Janus,” Paul said, leaned over his goods and getting his crusty apron all over his rabbit and chicken pies. No wonder that stuff always tasted weird. “Guy’s a right asshole, he didn’t give you too hard a time, did he?”

I chewed on my pie in thought. Nope, that name wasn’t ringing any bells. “Dunno a Janus,” I told him.

“Heard he went into it wit’ ya at Gin’s. And yer friend,” Paul’s eyes skittered to and away from Quatre. “Er, helped ya out.”

That’s a nice and understated way of saying ‘broke his fucking arm.’ Not bad, Paul.

“Hear that, Quat?” I turned to the blonde and smiled. “You’re _famous_.”

Quatre’s smile was frozen on his face.

I kind of underestimated just how much I enjoyed watching Quatre become uncomfortable. This was probably the result of having been on the other end for so long. At least here we were even.

“It was fine, Quat served him his ass,” I said, slapping Quatre on the back in a move that looked friendly but may have been harder than necessary. He didn’t even budge. “This guy’s got the face of an angel but the strength of a warhorse.”

“You flatter me,” Quatre remarked. He was smiling but the words came out a bit dry.

I fluttered my eyelashes at him. “I speak nothing but the truth, sunshine.”

Hilde sighed behind me. Quatre just blinked, taken aback by the moniker.

Leading my little troupe away from our lunch supplier, we ended up idling through the stalls of the town market. I’d like to think we naturally drifted apart, but I knew for a fact that even though I couldn’t see Mikhail or Sayaka, they were nearby and had me in their line of sight at all times. Quatre had remained next to me because he was clearly trying to see what he could do to make this trip as annoying as possible, while Hilde and Meilan hovered around us – Hilde keeping an eye on me, Meilan on Quatre.

“What are we looking for?” Quatre asked me, eyes moving over the various stalls of handmade crafts.

I inspected an ornate comb at one, the glossy painted flowers having caught my eye. “Just whatever you’re interested in,” I answered distractedly. “Hilde, it’s Esther’s daughter’s birthday next week, right? I think she was turning 10…”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

A pretty comb should be a good gift for her then. I remember the gardener mentioning how often her daughter played with her accessories, so something pretty should be acceptable.

I grinned at the vendor. “Three coins for the comb,” I offered.

“Ten. I painted it meself.”

“Five, then.” Since it has the gloss.

“Seven,” she repeated, her eyes flicking to Quatre then back to me.

 _Ugh_. “Quat, no offense, but go stand somewhere else,” I told him frankly. “Being with you is like wearing a sign that says ‘overcharge me please’.”

“E-Excuse me?” Quatre blinked.

“’E’s right,” the shopkeeper agreed. “You look like you sleep on pillows stuffed wit’ coin.”

Quatre stared at me like I was the one who’d somehow announced his wealth to the world, as if it wasn’t obvious from just the way he stood. What? Rich people carry themselves differently, it’s obvious to anyone who wasn’t raised with a golden spoon!

“You… You could just pay the full amount…” _It’s not as if you don’t have the funds,_ Quatre seemed to continue on silently.

Both me and the shopkeeper sighed. “It’s not about that, Quat,” I shook my head, disappointment in my voice. “It’s about the artistry, the passion!”

The shopkeeper nodded enthusiastically. “Haggling is a skill not everyone has, so when yer good at it, you need to show it off!”

Quatre stared at us.

“He’ll never understand true art,” the shopkeeper grunted, turning to me. “Yer a pretty one, you should find someone better.”

I sighed, a martyr taking the full brunt of the truth. “I can’t. He may not understand the delicate and complex art of marketplace bargaining, but he can still crunch numbers like the most ruthless accountant to ever grace the world,” I told her, fishing out seven coins to hand over. “Besides, he’s cute. What more could I ask for?”

She nodded in understanding, pity shining in her eyes in equal vibrance to her glee as she tucked the coins out of sight. Quatre kept quiet, probably trying to decide if I had been directly insulting or not to him, as Hilde took the comb from my hands. She walked a bit further off and into a gap between two stalls, briefly disappearing from view before coming back empty-handed.

I turned away, refusing to face reality.

Quatre’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Did she hand that off to an attendant?”

“I try not to think about it too hard.”

“…But that’s not even an alleyway, where do they—”

I wrapped my arms around Quatre’s arm and forcibly pulled him away. I absolutely refused to divulge just how deep the Duchess Guard ran in the marketplace nowadays, partly because even I wasn’t sure and mostly because I refused to know. As far as I was concerned, Hilde sent all the things I bought straight back to my room using a magical chute.

“Meilan, Hilde - Quat and I are going to check out that shop waaaay over there,” I told the girls, pointing to an indeterminate area across the marketplace.

Meilan glanced up from her careful consideration of a seed peddler’s goods. “I’ll be there in a moment. Don’t ditch Winner.”

What did she think I was gonna do, knock the guy unconscious and throw his body in the river? I know I didn’t exhibit perfect dandy behavior but I wasn’t that much of a thug!

“You wait ‘til the next tea party, I’m gonna fill the table with so many sugary goods that even looking at them will give you a stomachache,” I swore to her darkly as I began to pull Quatre away.

Meilan waved me off dismissively. _That’s it! I’m making sure she swallows the goddamn mont blanc next time!_

Hilde followed along after us because of course she would. After my last jaunt to the marketplace without permission and with only Asahi for company, she’d become even more paranoid. I was lucky to get away with only being mildly harassed, because if I’d come back with another scar, I’m not sure if either myself or the town would be left standing after Hilde was done with us.

That did remind me, though… “Hey, I haven’t seen Asahi in awhile…”

Hilde made a noncommittal noise but didn’t reply.

I stared at her suspiciously. “Where is he?”

“In training, Your Grace,” Hilde responded because she couldn’t get away with not answering my direct questions. This didn’t stop her from being vague and unhelpful though.

Somehow the words sent a chill down my spine. I turned back to Quatre, who had been obediently following my lead but his expression seemed vaguely unsettled. Probably because of the Asahi talk, god knew I found Hilde’s “training” explanation ominous.

The spot we ended up going to was a row of shops I only knew I passing. One was a shop in women’s clothing, and after several minutes of heated debate, I finally managed to convince Hilde to go inside and get herself something. I remembered from the novel that Hilde Schbeiker had favored trousers more than the skirts and dresses she’d been wearing every day since I got here, and couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes lingered on the shop window’s model outfits, one of which being a rather handsome outfit of dark blue trousers with white-collared shirt with a dark blue vest.

Hilde gave Quatre her signature murder-eyes, somehow silently conveying the impression that he better keep an eye on me or she’d kill him herself, before she left to enter the shop. Quatre turned a cheery smile on me, and after readjusting my eyes to the brightness, I steered him away from the high-grade clothing store he was clearly about to escort me into, adrenaline pumping through my veins.

I absolutely refused to add _even more clothes_ to my vast collection back home! It was bad enough I’d only scaled it down to one closet, given the size of the closet was bigger than a normal NYC apartment! This didn’t even include the room dedicated to the jewels and accessories I possessed, as the majority were gifts and thus, I couldn’t sell them.

“Oh, this shop looks interesting,” I said desperately, tugging Quatre into a store off the main street and further down the alleyway. Going by the window display, it seemed to be selling either rusted tools or birdcages full of dusty books. As neither of those were clothes nor accessories, I judged it to be safe.

Have you ever just had your expectations completely and thoroughly obliterated, mere seconds after having set them? It was like walking into a corner store expecting to come out with a bottle of soda, only to realize they’d replaced every single beverage with boiled eggs. No soda, no alternative beverages – just eggs.

Anyway, walking into that store made two things readily apparent: I would never know what their display was meant to be selling, and that it was an entire room full of stinkin’ gas station eggs.

The five burly strangers occupying most of the space within turned at our entrance. If this was back in NYC, I probably wouldn’t have thought much about it; it seemed unfair to assume something foul in the air just because someone had the physique of a semitruck. But now I lived in a romance novel whose villains ranged from the sneering Bandit Leader to the theatric King of Oz.

“Ya lost, little lambs?” one of the men cooed at us mockingly.

A rush of vindication filled me. I knew I wasn’t the only one who thought Quatre had dandy potential!

Quatre’s smile was blinding and ominous. “Not at all, my friend here was interested in your wares,” he answered, moving a step ahead of me.

“I don’t think they want to sell their birdcage books,” I muttered to the blonde, eyes flicking over the what I assumed to be illegally-obtained jewelry. Or maybe it was legally obtained, maybe these guys were actually model citizens and the novel actually had some goddamn _depth_ —

“Well, would you and your friend be interested in something more fun?” one man leered at us.

_Ugh._

Quatre’s smile dropped instantly. I guess that crossed the line – maybe he didn’t being hit on. Or maybe he didn’t like Heero’s husband being hit on, since he probably thought other-me would have taken them up on the offer, if only to piss Heero off. I could have told him that other-me would never have entertained someone that didn’t have that precious noble blood he loved so much.

Quatre turned to me. “This shop doesn’t appear to have anything of value,” he said with a small smile. “Why don’t you step outside, Your Grace, I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

I wonder if his psychic powers told him something was amiss, or if he was just as genre-savvy as I am. “Um, okay,” I acquiesced with my own smile. I’d have to wave down one of the hidden guards to help clean up the mess once Quatre was through with these people anyway.

Stepping outside the shop and wincing at the sound of shattering glass and pained screams that soon erupted, I glanced around the alleyway. Now if I was a ninja knight, where would I be…

It turned out there were no guards in the alleyway, as everyone very much trusted Quatre’s skills.

It also turned out they’d severely underestimated _my_ skills, because someone was waiting in the alleyway for me.

Hilde was going to be _so mad._

* * *

For all of the things I get up to, I have to admit – this was a first.

“You _kidnapped_ me?” I asked again, incredulous. My hands were bound tightly behind my back with rope, something they’d decided was necessary after I tried punching one of their guys out. “What use could I possibly have?!”

My kidnapper – someone I could only assume was associated with the thugs in the shop Quatre had been in the process of thrashing – glared at me in irritation. It was a look that reminded me of the Bandit Leader, which meant I wasn’t reacting the way I should have been again.

Damn, being a romance novel protagonist was a lot harder than I thought it’d be. How did Relena muster up the energy to react to everything so perfectly? I tried to pull on a frightened expression but it immediately slid off my face when the carriage I was riding in hit a particularly nasty bump on the road. God, maybe Mifune really _had_ been frightening the horses to travel smoothly, this was practically torture.

“Your lover has the money to pay your ransom, doesn’t he?” my kidnapper sneered at me. Dammit, Quatre, I knew everyone could tell that you were made of money! “My buddies are gonna rough him up a bit but they’ll let him go so he can pay to get you back.”

I didn’t know how to tell him that the ones being roughed up were his buddies. I don’t think Quatre was known for mercilessly cutting down his enemies; if possible, he did tend to spare them so long as they surrendered.

Maiming was still on the table though.

“He’s not my lover, he’s a friend,” I told the guy instead because you had to learn to pick your battles. “Also, he is way cuter than I am. Why didn’t you kidnap him? Not that I condone kidnapping or anything.” I, of course, was going to pick _all_ of the battles.

The kidnapper looked at me like I was stupid. “Look at yourself,” he scoffed. “You look like a right dandy.”

I hate this book.

“He looks as dandy-like as me!” I said in outrage. Sure, technically Quatre wasn’t, and he was highly-trained and considerably more deadly than most everyone, and yeah he was carrying shotels around while shopping—

“You know what, I don’t even care anymore,” I declared, not at all sullen. As soon as Relena appeared and Heero swept her off her feet, my dandy-ness would be an inconsequential factor. “Kidnap me. Ransom me. _Whatever_.”

I couldn’t even step inside a random shop now without being victimized by whatever criminal plot the novel was brewing. And there was no telling where the hell they were bringing me; the carriage windows were curtained shut and it felt like we were going at top speed to somewhere. Maybe after Quatre and the others refused to pay the ransom (because honest-to-God, who would?), they’d start sending me back piece by piece and Heero would return home to some morbid puzzle piece rendition of his husband.

The kidnapper frowned. “Hey, you should care a bit more about this…”

“No! You kidnapped me, _you_ care about it!”

“That- That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Shut up! I don’t have to!”

It wasn’t the longest carriage ride I’d been on, but it was definitely one of the roughest. It finally came to a stop in a shabby alleyway I didn’t recognize, meaning that it wasn’t anywhere within the first few blocks around the market area or any of the orphanages. I was dragged out from the carriage and into a nearby establishment; I wouldn’t call it either a shop or a home, looking more like a seedy dive bar than anything. The air was choked with smoke and there were about maybe a dozen people milling about inside, none of whom gave me any shocked glances.

“Oh, you have a pretty little thing this time, Robard,” one woman grinned at my kidnapper.

I shot him a disgusted look. “ _This_ time? You make a hobby of this?” Heero was going to flip when he learned he had this kind of criminal ring in his city.

“You shut up,” Robard hissed at me. “And you can’t take a bite of this one, Becka, we need him in pristine condition if we want a good return.”

I don’t think I had to be in pristine condition to be returned in exchange for ransom – which meant that they weren’t planning to return me at all. Damn, another human trafficking ring? And in the heart of the provincial capital no less!

“Oh my god, you’re going to be in _so many pieces,”_ I told Robard frankly. “I may not be alive to see it, but you are _doomed_.”

“What the hell is he going on about?” someone nearby asked.

“Nothing, this one is a little off in the head,” Robard dismissed me.

 _Wow_. I’m sure Hilde and some of the others thought that, but they never said it to my face. “I hope they feed you to wild dogs so that you can be who you truly are: _dog shit_.”

That earned me a vicious backhand that made my ears ring. I blinked the disorientation out of my eyes for a moment, tasting the blood in my mouth.

“I thought he was supposed to be in pristine condition,” the woman, Becka, sneered mockingly.

Robard flexed his hand with a scowl. “He’s pretty enough to sell with a few bruises.”

“Ugh, you even smell like dog shit too,” I told him flatly. “Then again, that could be all of you. Is that the aesthetic you all were going for?”

Robard hit me so hard that I actually ended up on the floor. I guess it wasn’t surprising he packed more of a punch than the Bandit Leader; he had almost double the size and that looked to be pure muscle. Not as many trite villainous lines too, so I guess he was a higher tier of villain.

“That’s not how you discipline a pet with that kind of mouth, Robard,” another man sighed. He’d been watching the proceedings for awhile now, and from the way Robard looked at him, this guy was a higher up the food chain. I guess this must be the boss. “Plain violence won’t work.”

…well that was ominous.

“Hold him down.”

I was seized around my waist and then thrown into an open chair; hands pushed down on my shoulders to keep me in place, another pair pinning my left arm to the top of the table. The man who spoke before picked up a pair of metal tongs, holding the jaws over the open fire in the cavernous fireplace.

It didn’t take a genius to see where this was going.

So the novel had gotten to the point that instead of just killing me off swiftly, it wanted to torture me first. I could only imagine the sob story my murder would turn into for Heero’s tragic background: seemingly-reformed husband that he never got the chance to see was viciously tortured and murdered by a criminal organization in his own province. I do suppose that this would lead into Heero pulling out the criminal elements by the roots, but I was the one paying the price, huh?

I really, really hate this book.

Boss-man pressed the smoking jaws against the exposed underside of my arm. The scream I must have let out had to have been unearthly – being fucking barbecued was a new experience, even for me – and the pain was so intense that I couldn’t see for a moment. By the time I came back to my senses, I was heaving air into my desperate lungs and trembling all over.

“That was for the first insult,” I was told, the leader’s words fairly purred out. Boss-man leaned forward to get a better look at my face. “But you made _two_ insults, didn’t you?”

I spit in his eye.

The second burn was no less painful than the first. I couldn’t hold in the scream this time either, but this turned out to be in my favor since it covered the panicked shouts and pained grunts from the entryway. Boss-man and the little crowd that had gathered around the table for my impromptu torture session had been so engrossed that they didn’t know what was happening until one of the guys holding me had a dagger lodged between his eyes.

The gang members scattered with several loud shrieks but there was simply nowhere to go; ominous shadows stood at every window and the doorways - both the entrance and the backdoor to the storage area - were open and allowing more familiar figures to spill in.

The flying dagger had come from the backdoor area where Hilde stood at the front, Mikhail beside her with his sword already drawn. The rest of the Duchess Guard stood behind them, armed to the teeth and viciously knocking out anyone who came near.

They were, somehow, _less_ frightening than the group at the front door. There were more knights there as well, quite a few of them being faces I recognized from the market, along with some of the Maguanacs. Meilan was at the front of the pack, looking more angry than I’d ever seen her.

All of them paled in comparison to Quatre.

His clothes, the outfit that got him greedily side-eyed in the market, was liberally splashed with blood. It was no wonder from where – his dual shotels, one gripped in each hand, shined crimson in the light streaking in through the windows. His usually-gentle face was wiped blank, the tactical commander Heero trusted in the battlefield standing here before us now.

Which meant _holy fuck we were in trouble._

After their explosive entrance, the only people near me were Robard and the Boss-man himself. Robard had been the one holding my arm down, and Boss-man was still holding the tongs. I could see every single one of my people put the clues together and the murderous intent went up a hundredfold.

“Do you people even know who I am?” Boss-man growled.

I knew that was the moment Quatre identified Boss-man as the leader. The fastest way to bring down a gang would be to take out its head - so the moment Boss-man outed himself, those shotels would find his neck and his decapitated head would find the floor.

Thank god I was right next to him. That wouldn’t stop Quatre from decapitating him; it just meant I had enough time to lash out, kicking Boss-man at the back of his knee and sending him collapsing to the floor – just as Quatre’s shotel skimmed the top hairs of his head.

“Quatre, _do not kill him!”_ I snapped. “We need him alive!”

Quatre’s voice was very calm. “I disagree,” he told me evenly.

Ooh, _scary_. I thought I heard some of the gangsters whimper at that.

Before I could explain that we very much needed Boss-man alive in order to give us all the information about his business practice so we could nip this organization in the bud, the bastard jumped to his feet and pressed a knife to my throat. “Don’t you fucking move!” he snapped to the room, putting his back to the fireplace so he could keep everyone in view. “If I see one person so much as twitch, he gets his throat slashed!”

“Oh my god,” I murmured, turning gleeful eyes on Mikhail. I get to experience being held hostage _again?_ And this guy didn’t even reek as badly as the last one too! Time for my dandy self to shine!

I quietly cleared my throat. “Oh no, p-please don’t hurt me,” I pleaded, widening my eyes for that deer-in-the-headlights look and clutching pathetically at the arm keeping me trapped. There, Mikhail! I even had that little terrified wobble in my voice, surely that was enough to pull at their heartstrings!

Mikhail audibly sighed. _Bastard!_

Everyone else didn’t have their eyes latched on to my perfect expression of terror and fear, but rather on my arm. I glanced down, mildly annoyed – where was the appreciation for my damsel in distress performance?! – before I saw what had gotten their attention: my two new burn marks, fresh and definitely going to scar in the future, branded right there in clear view.

I wasn’t the only one who just felt the chances of Boss-man’s survival plummet. The knife pressed more into my neck, drawing a small weeping of blood. _Stop, stop_ – they’re already planning to kill you, you’re only making it worse!

Okay, well, they’d probably kill Boss-man before they could grill him for answers, so I really hoped Robard knew more information. “They’ve been abducting and selling people!” I rushed out, ignoring the knife that dug deeper into my throat. “This place is their base of operations!”

“Shut up!” Boss-man hissed at me, pressing the knife even closer. Shit, if I did survive this – that was definitely another scar. Three scars in one afternoon! Hilde would never let me breathe a moment of freedom again.

“ _You_ shut up,” I snapped back, satisfied at having said my piece. Now they knew to try and keep Boss-man alive, or at least some of his men so they could interrogate them to find the whereabouts of the people they’d sold.

Boss-man glared down at me. “You little—”

I had no idea what unimaginative insult would have followed that, as inspiration struck me in that moment. The others were clearly hesitant to act while Boss-man still had a knife to my throat, and I didn’t want to play into the guy’s hands that much, so I decided my course of action before anyone else did after hearing one thing: the sound of the crackling fireplace right behind our backs.

With all the strength I could muster, I launched myself backwards – and we both fell back into the flames.

Now I had no intention of finishing what the novel had started with its first go at other-me, and knew that even if I did fall back into the gaping maw of the fireplace that didn’t mean I would burn to death. I was hoping the shock would have loosened Boss-man’s grip on me enough to slip away, thus the only danger to me would have been the knife at my throat moving the wrong way and effectively slicing my neck open.

I did _not_ expect to freeze up.

It was the smell that did it – more than the shocked yells around me, the pained scream from the man at my back, the sudden influx of heat or the slicing pain at my neck; it was the smell of fire meeting human hair that seized my body and took away all motor control from my limbs.

I don’t think it was some lasting trauma from the time the Maxwell Church burnt down. No, this response seemed inherently tied to the _body_ I inhabited: the Duo Maxwell of the novel, who had met his death in canon through the greenhouse fire. I suppose in this way, we were similar - we both held a harrowing fear of fire.

It was this fear, so intimately buried into the bones of my body, that left me helpless. I couldn’t get my body to respond at all, as if it wanted to burn up in the flames and right the flow of the story, started with the correction of my continued existence. I had thought the novel wanted me dead, but maybe it was more than that – maybe _this body_ wanted me dead.

It turned out that quite a few people wanted the opposite.

I was jerked roughly out of the fireplace, the clear panic on Quatre’s face startling in its honesty as he dragged me halfway across the room, putting distance between me and the flailing, burning form of Boss-man. Hands were coming at me from all sides; what parts of me were smoking were effectively patted out, and Hilde had already torn at her dress to wrap the makeshift bandage around my bleeding throat. Meilan was holding my injured arm out gently, assessing the burn degree of the two marks, as Mikhail and some of the others doused Boss-man in water and rounded up the rest of the gang members.

It took me a moment to realize that I was hyperventilating. Meilan reached out to pat me awkwardly on the head, but that sure wasn’t helping, and Hilde had started barking out orders to the nearby Duchess Guards to start getting ready to escort me out of there. I wish I could tell her that I didn’t think this body was up to moving at the moment, but I was too busy trying to breathe.

“ _Stop_.”

Quatre’s word stilled all motion in the room. His eyes were locked on me, although his words were directed to everyone else. “Give him some space. Lady Meilan, Hilde – stop touching him,” he ordered, stepping in front of me but not into my personal space. “Your Grace, please hold your breath and count to ten…”

Clearly Quatre had experience handling this kind of thing, which wasn’t a surprise – he’d been on the battlefield after all. A little panic attack would have been nothing unusual there. I followed the instructions he gave me, and around us, the others started to bundle up and escort the gang members out. From the glimpse I managed to catch, even Boss-man was still alive, so we got to keep our possible information lead.

Just as I got my breathing under control and could finally feel the full range of pain from my new slew of injuries, I grabbed the nearest person: Quatre. To his credit, he didn’t look surprised or disgusted – I had to have been pretty grody now from all the rough treatment – and instead drew closer to me, leaning over to get a better look at my eyes.

“How are you feeling, Your Grace?” he asked me kindly.

In quite a bit of pain. Kind of nauseous, because there was definitely a lingering smell of burnt human hair in the room. Gross from all the sweat after the little torture session, combined with all the blood making my shirt stick to me like second skin. Mildly panicked because I knew for a fact that Hilde wouldn’t let me leave my bedroom, much less the estate, once I’m out of here for the foreseeable future.

“So it turns out I’m afraid of fire,” was what I told him.

A swarm of people immediately blocked the fireplace from my view. I didn’t have the heart to tell them it was more the burning-human-flesh flame that incited the fear response rather than the innocuous-warmth-giver kind of flame. Or, at least, I didn’t have the energy to do so.

“Yes,” Quatre murmured, one hand clutching the front of his shirt right above his heart. _“I know.”_

His eyes glowed with a very familiar look. It was one shared with the majority of people in this room.

 _Oh no_.

* * *

My personal office was going to run out of space at this rate.

The study reserved for the Duchess served as their personal home office, and was usually the place where I worked on the estate’s budget and, before Quatre’s return, the duchy’s fiscal management. It also held a lot of personal notes I kept, including the ones from Hilde’s multitude of lessons about Sanc and the Yuy province. It was closer to my personal bedroom than Heero’s personal study or the conference room reserved for larger meetings, thus it was decided that this little meeting would be held here so I didn’t have to “exert” myself from my once again mandatory bedrest.

It had been only one day since my kidnapping and retrieval. Much like any other time I was injured outside of estate grounds, Doctor Po had been called and I’d been poked and prodded all night. Salves were applied to my burns, the slash on my neck had been carefully stitched and a fresh bandage reapplied, and every available Duchess Guard was now crawling about either inside or outside any room I occupied.

“We can brick up the fireplace,” Meilan offered, gazing at said object like it was some kind of traitor. Mikhail was standing beside it, as if he were personally making sure the flames wouldn’t somehow gain sentience and crawl out.

I never knew how much I hated being the voice of reason until I’d arrived in this place. “We are not doing that,” I told her.

“We’ll be installing grates,” Howard said. “To ensure there’s no spillover.”

I ignored him, and continued to do so as the others made various noises of agreement. Hilde placed a teacup and saucer in front of me before resuming her stance nearby; I knew if I so much as moved my injured left arm, I’d be dragged back to bed. I very carefully grabbed the cup with my right hand.

Commander Broden was hunkered over several sheets of paper, muttering under his breath feverishly. I didn’t need to look at what was written on them to know it was about another update to the training regimen, and could only imagine what he was trying to add to it now. At this rate, we may just end up with state-sponsored firefighters too…

Quatre looked the most composed of the lot gathered here, and also the least likely to forcefully escort me back to my bedroom if I so much as winced. I couldn’t trust that impression completely though, because he was also the one who had scarcely left my side since I’d returned to the manor. The only one more attached to me had been Hilde, and I had the horrible feeling they were taking turns hovering over me to go pay the gangsters locked in our jail cells a visit.

Staring at Quatre’s unblemished neck got me thinking – when was he supposed to have gotten his own renown neck scar? Now that I had my own, I didn’t like the idea of sweet (if somewhat scary) Quatre experiencing the same thing. It hurt like a bitch.

If I remembered correctly from the novel, he had mentioned receiving it while taking down a large, hostile group that had spread like an invasive species of vine throughout the kingdom, shamefully originating in the Yuy province.

When he’d tracked down the group’s head, the ensuing fight with the man known for his sadistic cruelty had been a tough and bloody affair, but one that Quatre ultimately won with the cost of his new, garish neck scar. It wasn’t that the leader was strong, it was that he’d taken hostages and until the Maguanacs arrived as back-up, Quatre was at the leader’s mercy.

…

… _wait_.

“So what do we know about the human trafficking case?” I asked the room abruptly, hoping to get their attention back on what actually mattered and forcibly tearing my eyes off the blonde and away from reality.

“There are seven disappearances linked to the organization,” Mikhail promptly responded. “Five of those have been tracked down in-province, but one was trafficked out to Armonia and the other to the Maxwell province. We’ve sent messengers to both.”

“Armonia again?” I echoed. This was the second human trafficking case in the Yuy duchy linked to them already. “Find out if it’s the same people or same area as the one in the Ishigaki case.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Were they involved in anything else?” I asked.

“They were smuggling stolen goods, as we saw when we walked into their shop,” Quatre said. “That was their main source of income. Human trafficking was more a crime of convenience to them.”

Oh, just a little slavery to spice things up? Fucking assholes. “Make sure to prosecute them to the full extent of the law. I also want anyone who even remotely enabled them to be found. If we don’t pull this out from the roots, it will just end up springing back up again.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

I reluctantly turned my attention to the next topic. “Commander Broden, do you have something to add?” _Please don’t say live bears, please don’t say live bears…_

“We’re planning to set up more patrol routes throughout the city,” Commander Broden responded, to my pleasant surprise. “If we can’t even keep the Duchess safe while shopping in broad daylight, then we have been remiss in our duties as knights of this province!”

Well, at least he wasn’t adding more to the Duchess Guard—

“And the Duchess Guard will be expanded to 15 members and you will have five knights with you at all times when you leave the property, Your Grace.”

_Why!!_

I stared morosely down into my cup of tea. I tried to remind myself that they were always a little more paranoid after one of these jaunts, but they’d calm down eventually. Right?

I gripped my teacup a little harder. _Right?!_

“I will also be escorting you,” Quatre said serenely. “Please include me in the Duchess Guard rotation, Commander.”

 _Oh no you don’t!_ “Do _not_ include him!” I interjected. “Quatre, guarding me isn’t your job!” I’m not Heero or Relena!

“It’s something I want to do, Your Grace,” Quatre said, turning the deadliest weapon I’ve seen to date on me: _puppy eyes._ Holy fuck, those baby blues were powerful! I felt guilty for even thinking about contradicting him!

I rallied myself together - one Hilde was enough! At least Meilan gave me some breathing room; Quatre nearly took off a guy’s head because of me. “You have enough work managing the duchy’s money and planning battle tactics with my husband, there’s no need for you to take responsibility for my safety. I can take care of myself anyway.”

There were several disbelieving snorts around the room. I scowled, “You know, if we had started my self-defense training earlier, we could have avoided—”

“A Duchess shouldn’t have to take self-defense classes to avoid being injured!” Hilde cried out. “You’ve been taken hostage by bandits, attacked by a corrupt governor, attacked by a corrupt nun and her lover, and now you’ve been _abducted and tortured by human traffickers!”_

For the first time ever, Hilde looked very close to bursting into tears. I really wanted to comfort her, but telling her something along the lines of ‘Heero would be better off without me’ probably wouldn’t do me any good right now.

“Now that all sounds really, uh, dangerous when you say it like that, but I was perfectly fine—”

_“You were nearly beheaded!”_

_“That disgusting old lech had his hands all over you!”_

_“Your arm was bleeding so much that we could see your footprints in the puddles!”_

_“They burned your arm and nearly sliced your neck clean open!”_

Alright, this was damn well turning into a town hall meeting solely concerned over my health. “Okay, okay, calm down! Thank you for being so worried about me, but…”

This earned me a host of mulish looks. What? I could be concerned about my own well-being too! I wasn’t that much of an adrenaline-junkie!

I sighed, “Listen, when it comes down to it – this is karma.”

That got me nothing but blank looks. I guess the concept of ‘karma’ hadn’t come to Sanc yet.

“Karma means that whatever is happening to me now is because of something I did in the past. So if I did something good, something good can happen to me later – and if I did something bad, something bad can happen to me later,” I explained. “So everything that happened to me so far is karma - because I was such an asshole for so long, now I’m getting the payback for all that.”

I didn’t really believe in karma; in my own humble opinion, this was all happening because other-me was supposed to have died and now here I was walking around as him. The story was trying to correct itself by throwing me in these situations; rather than trying to avoid it, it was best I face them head-on – so that I could at least use the cliché tropes to my advantage. Death-defying situations had the boon of revealing things useful to my and others’ survival, such as the iron ore mine in Aoba-ku and the corrupt governor in Ishigaki. Without the former, I’d never have found another source of income for the duchy; without the latter, Meilan would have been killed.

“So you’re saying you _deserve_ this?” Quatre asked. His tone was eerily calm and he had that bland expression he got right before breaking someone’s wrist or lopping someone’s head off.

I nodded, excited he was catching on. “Yes, exactly!”

“…His Grace the Duchess needs more rest,” Hilde said in a tone I’d never heard her use before and couldn’t place. Her expression was dancing somewhere between murderous and haunted. “He’s obviously speaking nonsense.”

I scowled, especially as the others made noises of agreement. “No, no – look, see, I definitely earned karma’s kick in the ass!” I argued, opening my desk drawer to pull out a roll of parchment I’d been saving just for this. I’d intended to hand it to Heero as soon as he returned, but convincing his staff and friends ahead of time would be good too.

I passed the parchment to Quatre, who unrolled it to reveal what I’d been working on when I’d first arrived in this world.

 _The List._ Or, more accurately titled now: **_Reasons Why Duo Should Be Banished._**

  1. > _Abused and degraded the servants._

  2. > _Cheated on my husband, with at least two different people._

  3. > _Abused and degraded my husband._

  4. > _Insulted my husband._

  5. > _Insulted my husband’s friends and allies._

  6. > _Mismanaged the Yuy estate._

  7. > _Embezzled funds from the Yuy duchy._

  8. > _Didn’t pay the servants the appropriate amount of money for their service._

  9. > _Bought way too many dumb things that I did not need._

  10. > _Did not check up on the people of the duchy even once._

  11. > _Did not appreciate Master Winner’s accounting skills when I had the chance!_




Quatre turned an incredulous stare on me. “You want to be _banished?”_

“He _WHAT?!”_ That was cried out in so many voices that I wasn’t even sure who said it, as it could very well have been everyone.

I crossed my arms. “Did you even read everything I wrote, Quatre?! It’s not about what I _want_ – it’s that I _deserve_ to be banished!” Or, more accurately, other-me deserved this but I was taking one for the (unwanted) team now.

Hilde tore the parchment out of Quatre’s hands to read, the others crowding around her. Quatre had all of his attention on me now though, and I gotta admit, even his bemused expression was adorable. I’d miss looking at him when I was eventually kicked out of the province by Heero.

“Your Grace, you said you don’t even remember doing most – if not _all_ – of these transgressions…” Quatre started. “And yet you still want to take responsibility for them?”

“Just because I don’t remember doing them doesn’t mean I’m absolved,” I replied. I personally knew I hadn’t committed these transgressions, but to everyone else in this world, other-me and me were one and the same – and only one of us was alive right now and walking around as the Duchess of the Yuy province.

Quatre mulled that answer over quietly. This gave the others the chance to voice their thoughts, Meilan being the first: “So all this time, you were just trying to _kill yourself_ as some sort of means of repentance?!”

“No, I don’t want to die,” I corrected her. “If I did, that would be a _‘Reasons Duo Should Be Executed’_ list.” I really hope Heero wouldn’t go so far as executing me. He was the male lead and inherently kind-hearted; other-me might have been an awful person but executing him seemed a bit much for the circumstances, especially after I spent so long trying to right his wrongs.

“Do you want to go back to the Maxwell estate?” Howard asked. “We can always arrange a visit, Your Grace, and if you really want to, I’m sure we can arrange a long-term stay. There’s no need for _this_.” He gestured to the list in disgust.

“I’ll leave the terms of the banishment up to Heero. He doesn’t have to send me back to the Maxwell province, I’ll go anywhere he tells me to.” I was confident I could make a living anywhere. Being a survivor was second nature to me anyway.

“This is because we’ve failed to protect you so many times, isn’t it!” Commander Broden tearfully exploded. _Oh god_. “So now you believe you would be safer anywhere but here!”

“No, that’s not it at all, there’s nowhere safer than here! But me deserving that safety net is the real issue.”

 _“His Grace the Duke will never forgive me!”_ Commander Broden continued to wail.

I stared at him. “I’m pretty sure after Heero sees that list, he’s going to agree with me…”

“You intend to _show this_ to His Grace the Duke?” Mikhail gaped at me.

I nodded, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Of course! Why else would I bother writing it all out?”

“You don’t even remember doing any of it!” Hilde retorted hotly.

“That’s not important! What’s important is justice!”

“You think you almost dying and then getting banished is _justice?!”_ Meilan glowered. “Hilde is right, you need to rest more and cease all of this crazy talk!”

Why is everyone always trying to send me back to bed!

Quatre raised a hand, forestalling the next heated response from my gallery of nay-sayers. Unlike them, he looked rather calm, which I took as a good sign – this meant he could listen to reason. When he was sure the others weren’t about to interrupt, he looked back to me.

“I want to be perfectly honest here, Your Grace,” he began. “I didn’t believe you had amnesia.”

I blinked. I mean, that was a bit surprising – I really thought I had convinced him earlier – but I was more surprised he was bringing that up now of all times. Whether he believed my amnesia or not didn’t really affect Heero banishing me.

“So when you started correcting your mistakes – particularly items six through nine on that list – I took it as a sign you had reflected on your behavior and were trying to improve yourself,” he continued. “I thought you were masking your impetus of change through lying about having amnesia, so that your previous wrongdoings could be excused and you could pretend to be someone new.”

…which meant that, now that I had shown everyone I had no desire to hide behind the excuse of amnesia and fully intended to take the full blame of other-me’s crimes, that the “amnesia” was in fact real. Which meant Quatre now fully believed it.

This meant I now had Quatre on my side!

Quatre took the parchment from Hilde’s hands. “Let’s address these one at a time, shall we?” he said, eyes skimming over the words. “One: _abused and degraded the servants_.”

Quatre glanced over at Hilde and Howard. “Verdict?”

 _“Not guilty!”_ they chorused vehemently in answer. _  
_

“Hey, wait, why are we doing this like it’s a public trial?!” I interjected.

Quatre gave me wide, innocent eyes because – as I was starting to realize with sudden, horrifying clarity – he was an _absolute fiend_. “You said you were interested in justice, Your Grace. A trial seems more than fair then.”

I scowled; I can’t believe he’s using my own words against me. “Fine, if this is how you guys want to do it!” I even have to be my own prosecutor, what kind of kangaroo court was this?! “Hilde said before that I verbally abused and degraded the servants!”

“I said you _corrected_ us, Your Grace,” Hilde replied primly. “And if we’re taking a holistic approach, all the servants you reprimanded have long forgiven you. You were hardest on your maids, after all.”

Shit, Kaori and the others loved me now. There’s no way they would say a word against me if it meant me getting banished.

“I’m sure if you’d really like to, you can apologize to them personally,” Quatre pointed out in his oh-I’m-so-reasonable voice. “So we’re going with ‘Not Guilty’ for this one. Now item two: _cheated on the Duke_.”

I perked up. There was no way to defend me on that one!

“You know that isn’t really uncommon for nobility,” Quatre said. “So we can strike that one out too.”

 _What!_ “Hey, don’t just strike it out because it’s commonplace! That doesn’t make it any less wrong!”

“But you ended your affairs, Your Grace,” Mikhail piped up. “You even blacklisted Trant Clark, and defended His Grace the Duke.”

“Oh?” Quatre looked pleasantly surprised by the news.

I glared at Mikhail. _Et tu?_

“And you can’t be banished for an extramarital affair either,” Quatre continued. “Otherwise half of the Sanc Court would be roaming the barbarian territories.”

Why does he even know that?!

“Item three: _abused and degraded the Duke_ , and also item four: _insulted the Duke_.” Quatre frowned. “Well, I do admit you were emotionally abusive and often insulted His Grace in both words and actions…”

Finally!

“But only Heero has the final say in that - and he hasn’t made any plans to punish you for it, much less entertained the idea of banishment,” Quatre said. “So we’ll strike those out as well.”

Dammit!

“On to item five: _insulted the Duke’s friends and allies_.” Quatre glanced over at Meilan. “That’s us then.”

Meilan glowered at me imperiously. “Any insult you’ve given me prior to your reform was returned in equal measure,” she sniffed. “And I consider you a friend now, so any insult given in the future will be discussed.”

Oh so _now_ she’s reasonable and not out for blood?

Quatre nodded. “I’ve forgiven you for any insult received and don’t believe it should be grounds for banishment. I know it’s the same for Trowa.”

“Honestly, I don’t think you’ve insulted Wufei _enough,”_ Meilan added.

“Item six: _mismanaged the estate_ ,” Quatre continued. “Whatever mismanagement occurred you’ve already corrected.”

And now it was clearly Howard’s turn to betray me. “His Grace the Duchess also created and implemented the program that allowed orphaned children to work in the estate,” he explained. “And developed an even greater orphanage reformation program that we intend to present to the Duke.”

Quatre beamed at me. “So that was your idea, Your Grace? How wonderful!”

“That’s different! I still was the one who originally messed everything up!” I refuted.

“The Duke was kept informed of your management or lack thereof,” Quatre dismissed. “That’s why Mr. Howard was usually doing the work.”

Heero really should have just banished other-me much earlier. Is this that bleeding heart his novel character was known for having?

“Item seven: _embezzled funds from the duchy_.” Quatre glanced at me. “Same as item six – you’ve already corrected this one, by a hundredfold.” I knew he meant through the technological innovations, along with the discovery of the iron ore mine and the sharing of the recipe for whiskey.

“I still committed embezzlement,” I pointed out.

“Actually, as this was before your provincial budget reform, the duchy’s money was considered your own personal wealth and was free to use,” Quatre corrected me. “So unless you can embezzle from yourself, this one is void.”

Oh my god, no wonder it had been so easy for other-me to do it!

“Item nine: _the buying of superfluous things_ ,” Quatre read on. “We’re hardly going to persecute you for poor shopping habits.”

“And you already returned or sold all of them,” Hilde said.

“Item ten: _did not check up on the citizens of the province_.” Here, Quatre smiled. “I believe we can consider that one fully rectified. You’ve personally checked on them so many times that almost everyone in the market recognizes you on sight. And the engineers of Taketoyo are still in awe of you.”

“If anything,” Hilde muttered. “You should stop checking up on them so much. That would vastly reduce your chances of being injured.”

“Last item, number eleven: _did not appreciate my accounting abilities_ ,” Quatre chuckled. “I’m very flattered by the praise, Your Grace, but again – this is not a punishable offense.”

I glared at the blonde sullenly. “This was a sham trial,” I told him.

Quatre hummed noncommittally, rolling the parchment back up. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Your Grace, but I must conclude that you’re not guilty and will not be banished for anything listed here. And as the Duke’s advisor and one of his closest friends, I know he would feel the same way and reach the same conclusion.”

He then proceeded to throw the roll of parchment directly into the fireplace.

“Shall we start anew then, Your Grace?” Quatre smiled at me. “My name is Quatre Raberba Winner. From this day forward, it’s an honor to be at your service.”

And just like that, the deadliest nail in my coffin was hammered closed.

* * *

**A/N** : Duo adds to his scar collection and now Quatre will have an unblemished neck and a growing fondness for this new Duchess lol

> **Everyone** : Is Duo going to fake his own death?! What clever plan will he come up with to get himself out of the love triangle?!
> 
> **Duo's Actual Plan** : _Here's a list of all the reasons I suck please kick me out thx_

I think you all just enjoy stressing out the guards, please, _they need to rest_... If Duo starts coming up with harebrained schemes to fake his own death, Hilde might actually kill him... 😂😂

_Please be kind and **drop a comment and kudos!**_ **:)**


	15. Arc I, Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero realizes he has the worst penpals.

**A/N** : At this rate, Heero is just going to be that one meme/clip of that guy walking into a room holding boxes of pizza to find everything in _utter chaos_ and _on fire_ …

* * *

**Chapter 15**

_Dear Heero…_

* * *

“Your Grace, Commander – there are letters for you.”

Trowa moved fast to retrieve the messenger’s offerings, delivering three letters to Heero and keeping one for himself. Wufei, the only one without a letter now, sighed in exasperation; Meilan really knew how to hold grudges. Heero was not looking forward to their reunion and hoped it came with less property damage than usual.

Glancing down at what had been handed to him, Heero was not surprised to see they were from Duo, Howard - and now Quatre. He suspected Quatre had wrote Trowa his own private letter, and honestly, he didn’t even want to read whatever sickly-sweet nonsense went on in their correspondence. Being an unwitting third wheel to their in-person romance had been rough enough.

Opening Howard’s letter first, Heero scanned the words. “…they’re investigating another human trafficking ring,” he announced to the room. “…Duo got caught up--?”

Heero glared down at the words. Howard had been unhelpfully vague in his description, only stating that a budding criminal organization that originated in the provincial capital had been dealing in human trafficking and stolen goods, and that _“the Duchess and Master Winner have taken care of the issue.”_ Quatre’s involvement was not a surprise, but why was Duo involved again?

There were no notes from Hilde this time around, so Duo was unlikely to have been injured then. That was good; if Duo got hurt even one more time, Heero was going to have to seriously rethink the security around his husband. A dandy should be easy to protect for the kingdom’s strongest military force.

Reading through the note left by Commander Broden, detailing his expansion of patrol routes given the human trafficking case, along with an increase in the number of Duchess Guards – that seemed unnecessary but Quatre was there, so Heero would leave it up to the blonde to be reasonable – there wasn’t much in this letter. There also seemed to be a few water stains, but Heero couldn't fathom why. _(And why was the letter riddled with incomprehensible apologies?)_ At the very least, the training regimen looked to have remained unaltered this time around.

Heero was glad. Every other letter he’d received had been vexing in their own way, so maybe things were finally calming down back home.

Opening up Duo’s letter, Heero began to read.

> _Dear Heero,_
> 
> _I’m about to go insane._
> 
> _There are guards everywhere I look. I was in the kitchen talking to the staff – they’re there. I was taking a stroll through the garden – they’re there. I stubbed my toe on the leg of my desk and one burst in through the window with her sword drawn! Heero, have you ever had to convince someone that an inanimate piece of furniture could not possibly commit treason?_
> 
> _Which reminds me, Quatre and his men have safely returned to the estate._

_Which part reminded him?!_

> _I’ve also started to invite Miss Catherine to some of the tea parties I’m hosting. Have you ever seen her and Lady Fuyunari get into a debate over horses? Things got so heated that Lady Angela couldn’t get a word in edgewise, it was the best tea party to date._
> 
> _Oh, and I’ve started diversifying our kitchen recipes. Quatre and Lady Meilan had excellent suggestions so we’ve started incorporating their food into our menus. Lady Meilan also wanted to let me know to let you know to let Master Chang know that the flower peddler he’s so fond of has a new item and she bought it for him, and also she still thinks that his gardening hobby is ridiculous._

“Chang, why is your wife using my husband as a messenger?”

“She’s what?!”

> _You should have already heard about the human trafficking case from Howard too, right? I got a few scratches during my ~~fight~~ ~~abduct~~ interaction with the leader of the group, but nothing big. The knights have located everyone involved, and we’ve even tracked down the people they abducted and sold. There was a bit of an issue with Armonia, but we’re looking into it. Quatre says it’s fine, and I want to believe him, but Quatre says a lot of things while smiling. ~~I still can’t believe he threw my list into the fireplace, who does that?~~ _

Heero wondered when Duo felt close enough to Quatre to refer to him by his given name. Ever since Duo had been introduced as Heero’s husband to the people Heero kept around himself, he’d only ever referred to them by their titles, last names, or vaguely insulting descriptions. What did Quatre do to change the Duchess's mind?

> _I’ve been working on my embroidery in the meanwhile. Your surprise gift is coming along nicely, but don’t set your expectations too high, alright? I’m proud of my progress though! I think even Hilde and Howard were surprised by how much better it is; whenever they see me working on it, you should see the looks on their faces! Howard even looked a little teary-eyed, I didn’t know he was such a softie!_

Heero felt his heartbeat pick up a little. From the way it was worded – Duo was working on another piece of embroidery for him, right? Would it be another handkerchief? Would it still be the crest of the Yuy house?

> _Winter’s coming on us now. I missed the Autumn equinox festival though. ~~Mandatory bedrest is so boring.~~ Kaori and the other maids brought me some of the local pastries; the food wasn’t as sweet as what I usually ~~get forced to~~ eat at teatime, it was so good! They won’t keep if I send them in a care package, so maybe next year, we can try them again together._
> 
> _I wanted to ask – is everything going alright over there? I think I’m speaking for everyone when I say you’re dearly missed. ~~Commander Broden really needs to be distracted from making even more changes to the training regimen.~~ The estate just isn’t the same without everyone here. _
> 
> _Stay safe, Heero._
> 
> _Waiting for your return,_
> 
> _Duo_

“Anything we need to know?” Wufei asked, glancing up at him. Heero shook his head; most of the contents in Duo’s letter felt private, and Heero didn’t really feel like sharing them with anyone else. Duo had, after all, written the letter for _him_.

Trowa looked up from his own letter from Quatre. “Quatre says hello and that Meilan isn’t any angrier than usual with you,” he said to the two.

Wufei snorted.

Heero moved on to Quatre’s letter to him. The blonde wouldn’t write about anything of significant importance to Heero in his private letter to Trowa, as he had always been very good at separating his work from his private life – so whatever Quatre had found after returning to the Yuy province, it would be conveyed in his correspondence to Heero.

Which was why Heero stared down at the contents in shock.

> _The Duchess is fine._
> 
> _Please permit me to use Sandrock._
> 
> _Quatre R. Winner_

Heero whipped up to glare at Trowa. “Quatre is requesting permission to use _Sandrock_ ,” he hissed.

Trowa stilled. “…for what reason? The Duchess…?”

“He said Duo is fine,” Heero dismissed. “Why would he need to use Sandrock while in the provincial capital? It can’t possibly be just to defend Duo.”

Now that Heero thought about it, though, there had been a rapid increase in the number of Duchess guards according to Howard’s report, and Commander Broden had been revising the training regimen over and over again. It was possible that Quatre just wanted to be especially vigilant, but Heero couldn’t imagine why. Quatre had only sent him a cursory report, a single line verifying that everything was fine back home but not going into further detail – likely for security reasons. Heero could only extrapolate the reasons himself and trust in the people he’d left back home to do what needed to be done.

But what was Duo doing to need so much security…?

* * *

Tiny black pearls were tied together in a multitude of rows as thick as the width of a grown man’s hand, each one shining back the light with an almost unearthly luminescence; each section was bracketed with thin silver trim, deceptively fragile but carefully carved with inscriptions too small to read with a glance. The clasp at the back of the choker necklace was two box-clutches, inscribed with minuscule black diamonds placed in the shape of miniature crosses on each box. The intricate filigree at the front was cast in silver, centered with a cushion-shaped diamond-like mineral that felt icy cold to the touch. 

The necklace had been kept enclosed in a simple pinewood box dusted lightly with an unknown material that had the consistency of ash. There were no inscriptions or adornments, only the unsettling feeling that soon occupied his gut after his fingertips skimmed the surface. Letting the ornate jewelry rest in his upturned palm, he took in its heavy weight and the feel of a chill so cold it nearly burned.

Its beauty was only matched by its scorn for mortal flesh.

“It will be five more days until we reach the Yuy province’s capital,” his attendant informed him.

Solo Maxwell grinned, setting the pearl choker necklace back into its casket.

His little brother would _love_ it.

* * *

**A/N** : Kudos to everyone who correctly guessed the identity of Duo’s brother~ Extra kudos to anyone who manages to correctly guess his motives 😏

Also - I am _so excited_. We are nearing the end of Arc I!!!! Two more Duo-centric chapters and one more _Dear Heero_ chapter, then we’re getting into Arc II!!! There will be REUNIONS (or FIRST MEETINGS technically)! BLOODSHED! HILDE IN DESPERATE NEED OF A RAISE FOR ALL THE SHIT SHE PUTS UP WITH! _RELENA!!!_

Anyway, p _lease be kind and_ ** _drop a comment and kudos!_ :)**


	16. Arc I, Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family reunions can be so awkward.

**A/N** : Three more chapters until Heero's return home!

 _Disclaimers for this chapter:_ discussion of (fantasy) religion

* * *

**Chapter 16**

* * *

Upon reflection, I can see how my banishment plan failed.

First and foremost – I was working with the wrong audience. That list should have been for Heero’s eyes alone, as he was the one who had suffered the most because of other-me and thus would be more receptive to plans that sent me away.

Second, I had doomed myself by not only rectifying everything other-me had done – but by going above and beyond, I had become endearing to these people. I was like a cute but dumb pet that they coddled, tasked with keeping me alive but also a source of entertainment. They didn’t have very many other pastimes, so whatever I happened to get up to at least kept them on their toes.

So obviously I just had to rework it so that they were a lot more supportive of my eventual banishment. The first step to this was easy: become a lot less endearing.

“Quat, are you free?”

Baby blue eyes locked onto me from where I stood in the doorway of Quatre’s personal study. Rashid, the only other person present in the room with Quatre, was staring at me with a slightly-slackened mouth due to my new nickname for his beloved leader; Quatre, to my annoyance, didn’t even look phased.

It may seem like a small thing to people in the modern era, but calling Quatre with such a casual nickname did more than just denote closeness; given our positions and titles, this was more disrespectful.

If I wanted to get banished and save myself from the Heero-Relena love triangle, then I had to take up some of other-me’s mannerisms – and being disrespectful to Heero’s friends was a start. Of course, I didn’t really know in what ways other-me had been disrespectful… But I’m sure this was close enough!

“Of course, Your Grace, did you need me for something?” Quatre asked, sending his trademark blinding smile my way. Jesus Christ, how did anyone tell this guy no?

Valiantly rallying myself up, I stiffened my shoulders. I was used to exuding confidence – but acting pompous was something else entirely. “Well, seeing as you’re not doing anything useful with your time,” Rashid stiffened up imperceptibly. “You may as well come for a stroll with me.”

Quatre didn’t so much as bat an eye. “It would be my pleasure, Your Grace!”

He really was making being mean to him very difficult. Did other-me not even have a sliver of a conscience?!

Quatre kindly escorted me out to the garden, Rashid and Mikhail trailing after us. (There was also probably another two Duchess guards hovering somewhere out of our line of sight, but I didn’t want to know.) The garden wasn’t in full bloom as it had been when I first arrived in this world. Winter was now in full force, and though the Yuy duchy did not have to face the snowstorms that touched down in some places back on Earth, a light dusting of snow was not unusual. Today it thinly carpeted the plants in the garden, but a path had been cleared by the staff earlier so we were not at risk of slipping.

“Being out here, I can’t help but remember the Duke’s face when your first letter arrived,” Quatre began, voice wistful. “The one with the pressed pink camellia petals. It was a kind gesture.”

I choked a little internally. All I could recall from that first letter was that it was Hallmark-level cheesiness, and since I had no idea about who I was even writing to, I’d gone with the most romantic stuff that came to mind. Now that he brought it up, I couldn’t believe that was what I had sent a guy like Heero Yuy – god, those dinners after he returned were going to be AWFUL.

“I hoped he didn’t feel too homesick after seeing them,” I said. “Since he’s been gone for so long, he may have forgotten what the garden even looks like.”

That was a low blow, but I was desperate at this point. Making a snide comment about Heero’s absence should be enough to push his friend’s buttons.

Quatre beamed at me. “The state of the petals was lovely! I’m sure His Grace the Duke felt reassured to know the estate was left in such capable hands.”

Ugh! Were my insults too passive-aggressive?! Why weren’t any of them landing?!

I moved a little closer to a nearby flowerbed; it wasn’t in bloom given the season, but that didn’t really matter given that it was only a cover for the crop of garlic behind it. _That’s right, my little delicious seasoning babies, soon you will be ripe for the harvest…_

“I’m sure the Duke will like your alterations to the garden as well,” Quatre continued on lightly. “He prefers the utility of having his own vegetable garden.”

“Then why didn’t he grow his own?”

“…You didn’t like the prospect so much back then, Your Grace.”

_Uggghhh!!!_

I glanced back at Quatre – who was examining the leeks – before looking back at my garlic. Should I… Should I get rid of my vegetable crops then? Since Heero liked it, then of course other-me hated it, which meant if I wanted to succeed at emulating other-me so that the others disliked my presence here – then I had to follow in other-me’s footsteps.

But… _my food…_

“Well,” I choked out, memories of pickled meat resurfacing. Quatre turned to look at me with big, curious eyes. Why the hell did it have to be him that came back early?! I bet I would have an easier time annoying someone like Master Chang! “Well, I suppose I did have b-better taste… So we should…”

_…my food…_

“We should…”

God, I could practically taste that pickled pig’s feet on my tongue!!

Quatre was smiling at me, eyes expectant.

“…What did you _do?!”_

We both turned at the sound of Meilan’s voice. She was coming towards us with quick steps, her expression rather stormy; I had no idea what set her off, but she definitely looked ready to fight. Maybe she heard about my rude words to Quatre earlier, prior to our disastrous little garden stroll.

I was surprised when she rushed right past me to stand in front of Quatre, hands on her hips. “I won’t allow even you to bully the Duchess, Master Quatre!” she declared to him angrily.

“He wasn’t!” Both I and Rashid cried out. Rashid froze, glancing at me in confusion.

Meilan turned to scowl at me. “Why are you protecting him?! You look like you’re about to cry!”

I do?

“Ah, well, I suppose I was bullying him a little…” Quatre admitted, to my utter bewilderment. No matter how you looked at it, _I_ was doing the bullying! “His Grace the Duchess was just trying to work up the nerve to tell me he wanted to get rid of all of his vegetable crops.”

…Why do I keep forgetting this guy is psychic.

Meilan stared at me. “Why? You’re the one that wanted them all planted.”

Before I could force out the words other-me would have likely said in response, Quatre continued. “I suspect His Grace is trying to emulate who he was before the fire, in a bid to get us to dislike him and support his self-banishment plan for when the Duke returns.”

God, Quat, give a man a little privacy in his own head!!

Now Meilan was turning a glowering look on me. “You’re _what?”_

“Don’t worry, he’s not nearly as cruel as he was before the fire,” Quatre told her. What the hell did other-me used to say to these people?! “And every time he says something even mildly disparaging to me, he’s wracked with so much guilt that he can’t focus on my eyes.”

“That’s not fair, your eyes are a complete cheat, Quatre!” I hissed.

Quatre hummed noncommittally. I was starting to distinguish between his hums now: this one meant something along the lines ‘I’m only humoring your poor, mortal concerns with a sound of acknowledgment out of pity, don’t let it inflate your little dandy ego.’

…I may be misinterpreting it a bit.

“Wait, why do you call him by just his given name?” Meilan interjected.

I blinked. It was honestly just a habit now – he’d introduced himself to me as Quatre, and now it stuck. Quatre never corrected me, so I assumed he was fine with it.

“It’s fine if he does,” Quatre smiled at her brightly. “I prefer it, and His Grace seems more comfortable calling me familiarly. We’re friends now, after all.”

Wait, we are?

“We’re friends too!” Meilan snapped, turning blazing eyes on me. “I demand you call me only by my name!”

“Uh, okay… Then you guys can just call me Duo then.”

The look they both turned on me was indescribably condescending. “That won’t be possible,” Meilan said. “You are the Duchess. It’s a title that must be shown respect.”

Oh for god’s sake. I finally make friends here and I still couldn’t get anyone to call me by my damn given name. Why the hell did I even have one then?

“Don’t worry, Your Grace,” Quatre spoke up. “His Grace the Duke calls you by your given name.”

“ _Stop reading my mind, Quatre.”_

“I would never, Your Grace.” Uh-huh sure, you angel-faced _lunatic_.

* * *

Today was the day of decisive victory. I steeled myself, shoulders taut with tension; if I showed even the slightest bit of hesitation, they'd fold me in half like a lawn chair and stick me back into storage. I couldn't afford to be shelved again, and knew that if I didn't win this battle, then the novel may very well win the war.

“You’re adamant about this, aren’t you, Your Grace?”

Sitting across from Quatre and trying very hard to look every bit the Duchess I wasn’t, I nodded imperiously. This was a point I was utterly unwilling to back down on.

Quatre matched my stare for a long moment, baby blue eyes gauging and calculative. God knows what was speeding through his mind right now, and I made sure I exuded as much stubbornness I could to ensure he could feel it.

With a sigh, Quatre leaned back in his chair.

I couldn’t help my victorious grin. _I win!_

“To want to resume your physical training this much,” the blonde murmured. “Perhaps there is some truth to Commander Broden’s belief that you have lost faith in the competence of the knights.”

I rolled my eyes – his guilt-trips weren’t going to work on me anymore. “Oh shut up, you know that isn’t it. I just want to be physically fit, okay?”

Quatre smothered a smile at my words. Swear to god, despite the angelic looks, Quatre had a sense of humor just as uncultured as mine.

“If the goal is physical fitness,” Hilde spoke up, as if she’d been waiting for me to say the magic words. “Then doing some light running would suffice.”

“No, I want to train like the knights!” Give me my goddamn abs back!

Hilde scowled. “A Duchess being as fit as a knight would be…disgraceful,” she said delicately.

To who?!

“If Your Grace really wants to resume training, we as loyal vassals cannot stop you,” Quatre interjected calmly. “Hilde, please notify Geralt that His Grace plans to restart his lessons, beginning tomorrow.”

Hilde looked like she’d rather kill me, him, and also Geralt. She smothered this expression under a diffident look, pivoting and leaving the room with quietly clicking heels. Every step felt like another hour of sleep I would lose to my paranoia, kept up by the idea that maybe this was where Hilde would draw the line and finally give in to her urge to assassinate me.

It was only after we were left alone in my office that Quatre continued. “When you were unaware of my true identity, you mentioned you were training because if you didn’t work out, you may die,” he began. “Is this _really_ about physical fitness, Your Grace?”

I know it’s hypocritical coming from me, but curse Quatre and his damn good memory. I huffed out a sigh. “It’s not…unrelated,” I replied tentatively.

Quatre stared at me expectantly.

“I…often get into trouble,” I admitted. “Way more than expected.”

“Is this related to that ‘karma’ idea you mentioned before?”

I wish I could explain that this whole entire novel was trying to kill me. I couldn’t get away without also going into the whole universe transmigration and body possession schtick though, and I wasn’t sure what the penalty was for someone who inadvertently possessed a dead guy.

“Something like that,” I shrugged. “I figure it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Quatre frowned in thought. “I must admit that this seems like a lapse in the ability of our knights,” he stated. “If the Duke knew that you were training in self-defense because you feared getting put in danger…”

He left that open-ended, which wasn’t very helpful because I had no idea what Heero would think about that. Wouldn’t he be relieved that other-me finally had some common sense beaten into him and wasn’t expecting miracles out of other people? Did other-me really expect to be sheltered and protected his whole life, especially by people who he abused daily?

Quatre sighed. _What did I do now?!_

“Your Grace… Your existence is far more important to the people around you than you think…”

Well, I do sign most of their paychecks. I imagine it would cause a bit of a delay if I suddenly upped and died. Not to mention the funeral costs would be ridiculous, wasting both time and money. I wonder where all of my clothes and jewels go after I die too? Would they get passed along to Relena later, or would they sell them to try to make up the money my funeral cost?

“Alright, if you say so,” I told Quatre consolingly.

He groaned a little to himself, burying his face into his hands in defeat.

Wow, _rude_.

* * *

For every possible action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. So in return for finally succeeding in my attempts to get myself physically trained, I had to pay the price.

Due to the greenhouse fire and my resulting “amnesia,” I had been excused from a lot of activities that Duchesses and other nobility often partook in. Estate management and social tea parties were only the tip of the iceberg; as the Duchess of the Yuy province, I was expected to be more involved in the duchy mainstays.

Other-me had not been…great at it. That isn’t to say he lacked the ability, as had been tacitly explained to me by Howard – it was more that he refused to do more than the bare minimum, and even that had been like pulling teeth. If nothing else, I had to give other-me credit for his sheer stubbornness; no matter how he was perceived by Heero’s people, he never let that get in the way of his hatred. I kinda hated that we had that in common too.

Now that I was well enough to start self-defense lessons, Hilde and the others decided to punish me for my hubris and push upon me another Duchess duty: church visitations.

As I learned previously with my adventures with the church-run orphanages, the religion of the Sanc Kingdom was present but difficult to grasp. Despite the use of religious symbolism etched into their chapels – five star-like symbols in a loose circle – there wasn’t much in the way of sacred rites. At least, there hadn’t been in the novel.

According to Hilde – who had taken over teaching me Duchess Duties – the religion of the Sanc kingdom was patriarchal, similar to the Catholic Church back home: male clergy occupied the highest posts, although female clergy members could still become nuns.

Who wrote this book, and why the hell did they decide to keep the shittiest parts of religion in their fantasy novel?

“We wanted to thank you for your generous donations to our humble church, Your Grace,” Father Corianolus simpered. We were standing in the open courtyard before the main church; despite the architecture being similar to the Christian churches back on Earth, the actual layout was a bit odd.

The church building itself was a humble structure, large enough only for the altar and a seating area with enough room for its parishioners. It was the rest of the property outside of this building that took up the most room: a residence hall for the clergy members who lived on-site laid on the eastern side of the church, running nearly the full length of the property. A large courtyard that stretched to about half the size of a football field was in the center, enclosed by exterior buildings that housed two libraries, a small art gallery, and multiple conference rooms on either side. To the church building’s west were a scattering of small pavilions, meant for social activities with some privacy, all encompassed within a simple garden area that included a picturesque pond. The entire church property was fenced off with tall stone walls that were impossible to see over, the entrance hall at the front the only way to gain entrance.

I smiled at the priest’s words. “I only did my duty as a loyal follower of…” I glanced back at Hilde; she silently mouthed the correct words back at me. “…Our God.”

She had been adamant that paying a visit to the church was part of the duties of a duchess, and the maids had dolled me up accordingly. I didn’t mind a nice little stroll (in a religious courtyard or not), but they’d shoved me into what I labeled the ‘fancier’ attire: a royal blue tunic pulled over a white high-collared undershirt, golden stitching in arching spirals down both sleeves, and tight-fitting white tights tucked into shiny, soft brown leather boots. They’d pulled half my hair up into an intricate braided pattern, kept in place with a golden hairpin inlaid with sapphires.

I’m pretty sure my outfit alone cost a month’s supply of food for all the clergymen in this church, but I tried not to think about it too much.

Father Corianolus nodded in approval. “The Yuy family was blessed by Peacemillion, and they return those favors to their people,” he said. “We were so relieved to hear that you’ve finally submitted yourself to Peacemillion and now act in God’s name.”

I continued smiling at him. What the fuck was he talking about?

“The Yuy house’s devotion has never been called into question, of course,” he continued, slipping into what almost felt like a patronizing tone. “When we learned that His Grace the Duke had become engaged to someone from the Maxwell family… well, I’m sure you can understand our initial trepidation!”

“Of course,” I agreed, glancing back to stare murderously at Hilde and Mikhail, both of whom seemed vaguely uncomfortable and were looking anywhere but at me.

Father Corianolus beamed at me. “I must admit, I’m very curious about your change of heart, Your Grace,” he said, dropping into a whisper that I’m sure both Hilde and Mikhail had been trained to hear so there was no point in bothering. I envied his ignorance. “Given the faith your family follows, it must have been difficult for you. Feel free to seek me out at any time for guidance.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” I said, feeling like nothing more than a yes-man.

The priest took us through the art gallery, showing us some of the paintings that Heero (and thus also me, given our whole married couple thing) had donated, along with some money they planned to use to renovate some of the exterior buildings. Hilde and Mikhail remained quiet and obedient as they trailed us, but I was already planning to grill them (and Howard) the moment I got back to the estate.

From the way Hilde had worded it, other-me should have been a devout follower of whatever religion Sanc followed. So why was Priest Kiss-Ass acting like I had been some kind of deviant?

“Would you like some time to pray, Your Grace?” Father Corianolus asked me, eyes expectant.

I smiled at him, then turned that same glittering smile on my little entourage who immediately tensed. “That would be wonderful,” I agreed. “I’d love to give my prayers to Our God. _Alone_.”

Hilde glared at me. “Your Grace—”

“I have Our God’s protection within these walls, do I not, Father?” I cut her off. “After all, since I am such a _devoted follower_ of Peacemillion, I should of course show my devotion.”

Hilde’s mouth snapped closed, a mulish look on her face as Father Corianolus enthusiastically agreed.

I traipsed into the empty church building with a smug grin thrown back at the peanut gallery. Sure, there were probably Duchess Guards crawling all over the exterior buildings, but at least I’d be alone inside the church. It was the first time in months I’d finally gotten a moment to myself, outside of when I laid in bed for the night!

My happiness lasted for all of ten seconds, as then I caught sight of another clergy member stood near the front of the room, right before the altar. He was a tall man, maybe even taller than Mikhail who looked to be a good 6’, and much younger than the senior Father Corianolus. He was dressed in a much more casual robe than the older priest as well; the black robe was similar, but gone was the white scarf-like cloth Corianolus had draped over his shoulders, inscribed with the symbol of Peacemillion.

I don’t know if it was the dim lighting of the interior – it was all by candlelight, few beams of daylight able to pierce through the narrow windows in the rafters – but the man’s robes looked almost too dark. Faded colors weren’t odd among the non-nobility, but this young priest looked as if he was wearing a starless night sky.

I couldn’t help it – I stopped dead in my tracks.

He turned at the sound. He was younger than Corianolus, but still a handful of years older than myself or Hilde. It was hard to tell his hair color in this kind of lighting; it was darker than Quatre’s, but certainly lighter than Hilde’s – maybe a light brown or red? He was a handsome guy though, but I couldn’t shake the feeling something about him was…off. Like he didn’t quite fit the place where he stood.

“Have you come to pray, Your Grace?” he asked me with a smile.

Damn, he already knew who I was? I guess that made sense, we had informed the church we would be visiting ahead of time, so I guess they informed everyone who would be present at the time. That at least explained why the place was so empty; I’d expected a church to be more populous than this on any other day.

“Yes,” I agreed, forcing my feet to move me closer. “I hope you don’t mind me intruding…”

“Not at all, Your Grace.”

The young priest moved only slightly aside, clearly expecting me to stand beside him facing the altar. I didn’t know if that was appropriate or not, but since this was something he expected, I guess I should play along; I didn’t want to be disrespectful. I’d spent too long trying not to get guillotined by the citizens that I didn’t want to risk getting burnt at the stake by the church either.

Now that I was closer to him, I could vaguely make out a pale scattering of freckles over his face. The candlelight was too dim and flickering to gauge the color of his eyes, but they looked to be blue-ish, maybe. He was handsome, objectively-speaking, but nothing about him was very provocative to me; I guess I had been conditioned to not find anyone wearing a priest robe interesting. That was probably for the best. From this close, though, I could make out the stitching on his right sleeve, near the cuff of his wrist – it was a scythe outlined in pale silver threads.

I turned back to the altar. It was a small area sectioned off by gold-painted railing, a single marble statue stood in the center shaped like an open hand, the palm cradling five dissimilar spheres. The priest had referred to their deity as ‘Peacemillion,’ but that was the first time I’d ever heard of it – the deity of the Sanc Kingdom in the novel had never been named.

Thinking I may as well get this over with, I tentatively clasped my hands together in prayer.

There was a small huff of amusement next to me. I glanced to the side at the priest, who was looking at my interlocked fingers and smiling. “That’s not the right gesture,” he said softly, eyes moving up to lock with my own.

His words sounded so reassuring, like he knew exactly what I had been doing – which would be honestly surprising, given that I had no idea what I was doing. I guess it was good at least one of us thought they knew what was going on.

“Followers of Peacemillion pray like this,” he corrected me gently, pressing his hands together palm-to-palm, fingertip-to-fingertip.

“Ah, right,” I stammered out, flustered at being caught messing it up. “Sorry—”

“Do not worry, Your Grace, it’s to be expected,” the priest waved off with a small laugh. “You spent most of your years praying the way you are now, it’s only natural you would do it reflexively.”

…So the way I was doing it was still another way to pray, just not for _this_ Church? Was everyone in this place a perfectionist?!

The priest dropped his hands, still smiling at me. “You should try avoiding doing that in front of others though. Father Corianolus isn’t as _understanding_ when it comes to things like this.”

I stared at him in confusion. “Is it that big a deal?”

“They think it’s heretical.”

I separated my hands immediately. “What?!”

“When your hands are in that position,” the priest resumed the same gesture as I had done, fingers interlocked and palms pressed together. “It’s not _Peacemillion_ you’re praying to.”

…Then who the hell am I praying to?

I recalled what Father Corianolus said about the Maxwell family – that somehow, Heero marrying someone from that family had caused some to question his faith. I didn’t think anything about people questioning Heero’s taste, given how awful other-me had been, but something tells me the good people of the church weren’t upset with the Duchess’s taste in finery.

“Is that what they consider my family?” I asked, as calmly as I dared. “Heretics?”

The priest kept his fingers interlocked, eyes moving away from me and towards the altar. It struck me right then why he looked so out of place – he didn’t believe in the god being honored before him. “The Maxwell ducal family is unique for two things in Sanc: the first is their belief. It is not Peacemillion they invoke.”

I wanted to ask what the hell they were praying to, but the priest moved first; hands relaxing and arms retreating to his sides, he turned to face me. The candlelight danced ominously over his face, but nothing about him seemed dangerous. He seemed almost comforting, as if some part of me knew I could trust him.

It was getting hard to focus; I felt oddly relaxed here, in a way I hadn’t been ever since I first arrived in this novel world. It was a feeling as if waking from a pleasant dream, back in my raggedy bed in NYC, curled up under my blanket with nothing to take care of in the near future.

“Do you know the second thing they’re known for?”

I tried to refocus my attention back on the man before me, only now just noticing the fingers below my chin, tilting my head up to more squarely meet his gaze. From this distance, and with just enough illumination from the candlelight, I could almost make out the color of the pair boring into my own—

_“Violet eyes.”_

Before I knew it, his hands were around my throat.

Something audibly clicked.

_…Ah._

_FInALLy_

_I_

_FoUnD_

_YoU._

My eyes slipped closed and I fell into the dark.

* * *

“…His Grace…unwell…”

“…don’t…what is…”

“…doctor…”

Why was I always waking up to chaos? It feels like any time I woke up these days, I had someone beside me freaking out. I almost reluctantly cracked open my eyes, taking in the people clustered beside me looking ready to attack anyone that so much as glanced in my direction. Hilde was squaring off with a group of older men, including Father Corianolus, all of whom seemed very pale and not at all ready for her murder-eyes.

I weighed the pros and cons of Hilde starting an incident at the church before finally gearing myself up to move, managing to push myself up into a seating position before all eyes fell on me when I couldn’t help a small groan. Why the hell did I ache all over? And why was I even laying down in the first place?

“Your Grace!” Lyle exclaimed, kneeling down beside the – cot? – I was on. “How are you feeling?”

I grimaced. _Like shit._ “What ran me over?”

“You were found unconscious in the church, Your Grace,” Father Corianolus spoke up, squeaking in dismay when Hilde turned a murderous look on him. I empathized with him distinctly at that moment.

Mikhail handed me a cup of water after Mifune had taken a sip of it first. Holy shit, their paranoia was skyrocketing – they were testing for poison now?! “Were you attacked, Your Grace?”

“No one in this church would ever—” one of the other priests began to cry out, before Hilde and all five of my visibly present guards turned glowering looks on him. He shut his mouth with a snap and pale flushing.

I took a meditative sip of my water, trying to recall whatever had landed me here. I remember going into the church alone just to annoy Hilde and the others…

…there had been someone else inside!

“There was a man,” I recalled aloud, catching their attention. “A…” Priest? No, that didn’t sound quite right. He wasn’t a parishioner, nor a clergyman – but I couldn’t remember why he hadn’t struck me as something dangerous, as something wrong.

“A man, Your Grace?” Mikhail prompted me gently.

 _A man in black…_ I looked over at the priests. Father Corianolus was the only one wearing the white cloth with Peacemillion’s symbols, the other two in simple black robes. My eyes immediately went to their sleeves – but there were no stitchings, the only decoration being the cuffs made from white and gold thread.

“Yes, but I don’t…” I don’t fucking remember anything else. I think we had been talking, but the words felt disconnected. Something about…prayer?

“His Grace is exhausted,” Hilde cut in. “We will return home at once. Sir Mikhail, please investigate the premises and try to find the man who did this.”

She turned a heated look on the clergymen. “I trust you will help our men secure this area? Whoever dared attack the Duchess would certainly be a danger to any churchgoer, after all.”

They rushed to agree with her. I could only imagine how obvious the threat in her expression had been. Lyle looked ready to bodily pick me up and carry me away, but I made it to my feet before he could dare even ask. Mikhail took Mifune, Sayaka, and Berion with him to do as Hilde instructed, and I was ushered out by Hilde and Lyle back to the carriage.

The trip back was tense. I couldn’t work up anything to say to distract them; I felt too drained, both physically and emotionally. I just wanted to go back home and pass out in my bed. I wonder if I could even skip bathing tonight if I looked tired enough?

I don’t know what scary means they used to spread the word, but it was obvious that everyone back at the estate had been informed of my unexpected collapse at the church. As soon as I stepped into the foyer of the manor, Quatre, Meilan, and Howard were surrounding us. I’m glad Quatre had no shotels present, so I didn’t have to worry about him storming into the church grounds and starting a ruckus. I glanced at Meilan, who was eyeing the doors like she was planning to start just that.

I knew I was super tired – because I honest to god didn’t even want to stop her.

I wouldn’t be able to rest until either they found the man I barely remembered, or I told them everything I know. Since the only thing coming to mind was a conversation revolving loosely around prayer and some odd tidbits about what mystery man was wearing, I hoped this conversation would be short.

I somehow managed to convince everyone to convene in my study instead of my bedroom, so I dropped gratefully into my chair and ignored the way Quatre twitched, like he was purposely restraining himself from dragging me to my bed. That was Hilde’s job after all.

“Alright, to be honest, I have no idea what happened in the church,” I started with a sigh. “I don’t know what knocked me out, and going off the lack of pain and blood, I don’t think I was harmed either.”

“We found you passed out at the foot of the altar,” Hilde contributed. “You had no physical marks but you weren’t waking up.”

At least that explained why I’d woken up in a cot in another room. “My memories are pretty fuzzy after I entered the church. I’m pretty sure there was another person there, a man, but I-- I can’t really remember him. We talked, I think, but I…”

I remember clasping my hands together in prayer, the same as I had done so many times back in the Maxwell Church. I thought it was a waste of time back then, and then in the church here, I was just going through the motions.

> _That’s not the right gesture._

The words seemed to echo. That’s right, that’s what we’d talked about – how to pray. I wasn’t praying to Sanc’s god, Peacemillion, correctly, and the man— the priest? “He wasn’t a priest,” I muttered. “I’d thought he was, but he… He was different.”

“Different how?” Meilan asked. “Was he the one who hurt you?”

Was he? He was there, but I don’t know what knocked me unconscious. “I don’t know,” I felt like I was saying that a lot. “He didn’t seem dangerous, just…weird. He was wearing black robes but it looked darker than the robes on the other clergy members. And there was something on his sleeve, a stitching—”

“Of a silver scythe?”

I blinked, surprised not just at Quatre’s interjection – but that he’d been correct. “Yeah! It was on his right sleeve.”

It was a testament to how long I’d spent with these people that I could immediately tell that this information put them on edge. It seemed like I was the only one not in the know again. “What is it?” I asked into the tense silence.

“…It’s a symbol,” Quatre began to explain. “He’s not part of that church. He’s a follower of the Harvester.”

Well, that explained the farm tool stitched onto his robe, but why the hell did that seem so ominous? “So what, he prays to the god of farmers or something?”

Quatre shook his head. “The Harvester is… He’s a representation of death, Your Grace. Followers of the Harvester pray to the God of Death.”

So what, were they like a Satanic cult or something?!

Either the alarm showed in my face or Quat was using his psychic powers again because he continued on. “It’s not a bad thing, Your Grace – they’re not evil or dangerous. They just have a smaller following than the Peacemillion in Sanc, and it would be unusual if someone else had run into a Harvester believer in the church today.”

…if _someone else_ had? “So you’re saying it’s not unusual for _me_ to run into a follower of the Death cult?”

“What’s a cult?” That was Meilan.

“It’s a religion, not a cult,” Quatre corrected me. He looked kinda constipated; he definitely didn’t want to be having this conversation, though I couldn’t figure out why. “And no, Your Grace… The Maxwell family have been followers of the Harvester for generations.”

> _It’s not Peacemillion you’re praying to._

I suddenly understood the expression on Quatre’s face. The man in the church was not only a follower of the Harvester – he knew other-me had been as well. He knew what god my body had been praying to, and more than that, _he knew I didn’t._

“You think Duke Maxwell sent a spy?” Howard asked in alarm.

Quatre’s brows furrowed. “It wouldn’t be… completely unexpected. With the Duke still away and no letters from His Grace the Duchess, it’s possible they got concerned and sent someone.”

“But they wouldn’t knock His Grace out and leave him lying in a pew!”

Their words weren’t registering in my mind. I couldn’t focus on anything but what I remembered about that man in the church. He had known that I didn’t know about the Maxwell family, he had known that I was unfamiliar with the rites of prayer – both for Peacemillion and the Harvester. He had known that the family I claimed to be from were known for following only one of those gods.

And _so had the people in this room._

“You said I was a follower of Peacemillion.”

Their eyes turned to me. For the first time in a long while, I found I didn’t care.

“You said a Duchess had to pay their respects to the church, to their faith. You told me that and you took me to the church of Peacemillion,” I continued, not even sure who I was addressing. Hilde? Howard? Everyone in this fucking room? “To the church of a religion that _I don’t follow_.”

I had gone to pay my respects because this was the religion other-me had followed. It was his body I had taken over, it was his duties and responsibilities that had become my own. They didn’t know this – they thought I was still him, at least in the most basic aspect.

Amnesia made someone vulnerable. There were so many things about this world I didn’t know, and it was the same for the body I inhabited. This was part of the reason why I never strayed from my role as Duo Maxwell-Yuy, why I worked to better my conditions rather than just disappear the moment anyone looked away. I relied on the people I was surrounded by, and because of my condition and how they perceived it, that reliance came with the implicit trust that they wouldn’t lead me wrong.

I knew why they’d taken me to the church. Father Corianolus had mentioned it himself, hadn’t he? The Yuy family were devout followers of Peacemillion, like most of the populace in Sanc; Relena must be as well, because religion had been so inconsequential in the novel that their deity had never been named. If Heero had had a choice, if the other nobles of Sanc hadn’t turned up their noses at him because of a perceived inferiority, then surely he would have chosen someone whose faith was the same as his own.

Isn’t that why his friends, his loyal subordinates who only wanted the best for him, convinced his amnesiac husband that he believed in the same?

I never thought to question them. I believed so whole-heartedly in the narrative – I was in the body of the villain; they were supporters and allies of the hero. They wouldn’t do anything wrong, and likewise, I had to struggle tooth and nail to do everything right.

It didn’t matter that I, myself, didn’t believe in any of their gods, or even in any of the ones back home.

At least Father Maxwell had given me the choice.

The man in the church had told me more about what Duo Maxwell-Yuy believed in than any of the people in this room.

And that _fucking hurt._

“When were you going to tell me I believed in the Harvester?” I asked. I felt the anger rise in my chest, but surprisingly, my voice came out perfectly icy – everyone in the room had flinched at the sound of it. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Hilde couldn’t meet my eyes. “I… I’m sorry, Your Grace…”

Meilan and Quatre only stood stiffly and awkwardly to the side – neither of them followed Peacemillion either, as far as I was aware, and yet no one seemed inclined to push them in the church’s hands. Howard didn’t say anything – which was funny, because he’d had no trouble telling me about the donations made to the church earlier today.

“I don’t know anything about this place. I don’t know anything about myself,” I said; the heat of the anger was already in my throat. “That’s why I trusted you to help me. I believe the things you tell me, I listen to your advice and I heed your warnings – because you know me. And yet you still took me to that church, and convinced me that it was Peacemillion I followed.”

I’m aware that, in the grand scheme of things, I owed them far more than they owed me. The other-me that had burned up in the greenhouse had done awful things to every single person in this room, and I knew that I had to change that expectation. I tried to not just be a better version of the former Duchess, but also of myself – that’s why I asked for permission, that’s why I listened to their complaints, that’s why I was always on the lookout for something I may have done wrong.

That they hadn’t hesitated to lie to me for Heero's benefit was _alarming_.

“You took advantage of me,” I ground out. “Do you think that I am just a _blank slate_ that you are _free to shit on?”_

Hilde and Howard both dropped to their knees, hands flat and heads so low that their foreheads must have been touching the ground. Quatre and Meilan had instinctively straightened into almost military stances, shoulders taut with tension and arms straight at their sides.

I didn’t much care. “ _Answer me.”_

“N-No, Your Grace,” Hilde choked out. I couldn’t see her face but I could tell she wasn’t lying. “I-I have overstepped—”

“It was our mistake, Your Grace,” Howard interjected. “We have no excuse for our actions!”

Of course they didn’t. They’d done it because they thought it had been right. Like most citizens of Sanc, they followed Peacemillion; as loyal vassals of the Yuy estate, they followed Heero. When faced with a seemingly-reformed duchess who believed in nothing and had not cared to ask, wouldn’t it only make sense to push him to the church they and their lord followed?

I was still fucking pissed though. “Get out.”

The two prostrating themselves on the ground jumped to their feet. Quatre and Meilan were staring at me, obviously unsure if they were included in that order.

“I don’t want to see any of your faces any time soon,” I said coldly, looking over all four of them. “ _Get the fuck out of my study._ ”

Hilde and Howard obediently fled from the room, and I never really got a look at their faces – so if they were enraged by my words, I didn’t know it. Meilan looked torn, probably because she wanted to fight me or something for my attitude, but she was too honorable to hit someone who already looked dead on their feet. Quatre was the only one to give me a glance back, but I couldn’t read the expression on his face. I was too pissed to care anyway.

It was only after the door clicked shut and their footsteps faded from my hearing that I finally stood. The anger had dissipated quickly enough, and with it the remaining bit of my energy – maybe I would just sleep in my study tonight. Who was going to lecture me, the guard hovering outside the window pretending to not exist?

I moved over to the full-length mirror hanging on the wall. I had been too distracted after waking up and during the carriage ride, so I hadn’t noticed earlier… It was only after getting to sit down in my study that I realized I was feeling more than just tired and achy.

I pulled the top of my shirt collar down to fully expose my neck.

_…where the hell did this pearl choker come from?_

* * *

**A/N** : Y'all, I didn't realize it until now but you know what else you're getting in Arc II? _An actual plot._

I was so distracted beating down my inner angst-writer that my inner horror-writer nearly took over. No worries though, I won't allow even the plot to dominate the comedy. _I need to rest._

Anyway, p _lease be kind and_ ** _drop a comment and kudos!_ :)**


	17. Arc I, Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone @ literally everyone this chapter: And then I will pepper in the fact that I AM TO BLAME

**A/N** : Too late for Christmas…but Happy New Year, everyone! -casually slams an 'Unreliable Narrator' tag onto the story-

* * *

**Chapter 17**

* * *

The Yuy estate had all of the luxuries of the nobility – and the exact same atmosphere as a high school.

Gossip was inevitable in every workplace, and though most of the staff called this place home, it was still where they were employed. Despite passing out in the study early in the evening, by the time I was woken up the next morning by gentle knocking on the door – it was obvious the entire estate knew about my little fallout with Hilde and the others.

Melissa, one of my three personal maids, was the one knocking politely at the study room door. The fact that Hilde was nowhere nearby meant that, at the very least, she was taking my words from last night to heart and not showing me her face.

“Your Grace, shall I prepare a bath?” Melissa asked, face and tone perfectly neutral.

I bit down on the urge to sigh. Of course after my little blowup, everyone was back to walking on eggshells. If I was more awake, I’d definitely be annoyed.

“Yeah,” I answered her with none of my usual cheer. “Can you pick out something simple for me to wear today? I think I’ll just be staying inside.”

Melissa’s lips wobbled for a moment, but she quickly resumed her composure. “Right away, Your Grace,” she mumbled.

I followed her back to my bedroom and into the connected bathing room, where both Kaori and Coralina were waiting. They didn’t say much of anything, a silent tension enveloping us as they quickly but gently helped me undress. Stripped down to only my undergarments and avoiding looking at their faces, I felt Kaori’s hands at the back of my neck as she went to take off the strange choker wrapped around my throat.

“Leave it,” I told her briskly.

Kaori stilled, hands quickly retracting. “Your Grace?”

“I’ll bathe with it on.” The idea of anyone’s hands being so close to my throat didn’t sit well with me.

They didn’t try to argue it, as Hilde definitely would have had she been present. Instead, I took off the last bit of my clothing and sunk into the warm bathwater. I’d already quickly grown accustomed to being helped to bathe, although I had set my foot down early on so that I was the only one sponging myself. The girls quickly busied themselves, Melissa adding fragrances to the water – peppermint oil this time, another gift courtesy of the perfume peddler Gilbert – as the other two went to arrange my outfit for the day.

Now that I was soaking in the water, I felt like I was truly waking up. I was usually quick to rise but today I just felt so lethargic when I first opened my eyes; now, though, it was like I became acutely aware of everything. I could even tell that it was Sayaka hovering just outside of the closed bathroom window, although I couldn’t quite make out her figure.

I guess peppermint oil really does rejuvenate you. Maybe I’ll place a large order next time and make it my part of my morning ritual.

They helped me out of the bath in short order, and I pulled on the bathing robe and stepped out into my bedroom where my actual clothes for the day awaited. Melissa had kindly followed my instructions and chosen something comfortable: a dark blue tunic with golden trim and white pants. I wanted to do my own hair today, but at their crestfallen looks, I relented enough to allow Coralina to brush my hair as the other two tidied up around the room.

Every time the comb snagged on another tangle, I made another mental note to check on Gilbert’s progress with creating hair conditioner. It didn’t help that Coralina looked as if she wanted to throw herself out the window each time as well.

“Will you…” _Please chill,_ I wanted to beg, but the words wouldn’t come out of my throat because all three girls just froze in expectant terror at the beginning of my statement. “Look – I’m not mad at you, okay?”

This got me a round of wide-eyed stares.

“So you can relax, you’re not in trouble or anything. I’m just… I’m just a bit tired today…”

Still nothing from my three little audience members. I could feel my irritation rising at their inaction, although some part of me couldn’t help but be impressed at the sheer amount of backsliding I had unintentionally caused. So if I snap back even a little, it’s like other-me was reborn in their eyes?

I gently took the hairbrush from Coralina’s hands. “I think I’ll get ready by myself today,” I told them. I had no plans to meet anyone, let alone really leave the confines of my study – so there was no need to look extravagant.

“But Your Grace—”

“It’s fine, I promise!” I said with a smile. “Just leave my breakfast by the door.”

There wasn’t much they could do when the orders came from me, although their reluctance was surprising. They trailed out of the room with hesitant steps, their backward glances so reminiscent of Quatre’s expression from last night that I had to turn away first. Once the door clicked shut behind them, I set the hairbrush down on my vanity and finally took a long look at myself in the mirror.

The collar of my tunic sat low enough on my throat that the choker was in full view. I’d gotten a look last night, but the flickering illumination from the fireplace and my own turbulent emotions had colored it…darker, somehow.

In the light of day, it was like I was taking my first good look; it was a beautiful piece of jewelry, not as ostentatious as most of other-me’s accessories had been. It rested snugly against my throat, so comfortable that it was astonishing. I’d rarely worn chokers before and always thought it would feel more like a collar around my throat, yet this pearl-laden necklace was almost comforting in its weight, a steady, centering presence despite the most recent eye-opening changes.

Almost reluctantly, I traced my fingertips along its beaded lines to the clasps resting against my nape. I had just barely tapped the cool, flat box clutches before the choker sagged open and I caught it before it could fall onto the top of the vanity I was leaned over.

I examined it closely. It felt heavy in my hands, heavier than it had around my neck, and yet was still warm from my own body heat. I knew it was odd that this had somehow been put on me, likely from the time I had passed out in the Church – but I still didn’t want to let it go.

I know I should tell someone. But who? Hilde and Howard were both out of the question; Meilan and Quatre were probably still upset that I had kicked them out of the room last night, and it was clear from the behavior of Kaori and the others that everyone believed the other-me had come back in full.

I don’t think it was dangerous or anything. I don’t remember the novel ever mentioning anything about magic, let alone cursed jewelry. It had also come off super easily, so it wasn’t like someone had just snapped a collar around my throat. I couldn’t really explain why the strange guy in the church had knocked me out and given me jewelry, but honestly – weirder things have happened.

I wrapped the choker once more around my throat.

* * *

Wandering around the estate grounds did little to clear my thoughts; instead, it brought me back to those early days when I first arrived, Hilde a silent shadow behind me as I explored this new place everyone seemed adamant I called home.

I walked alone now. Well, as alone as I could get anyway – Mifune and Berion were just around the corner, ghosting my trail but staying out of my eyesight. I wonder if, just like the household staff who avoided my eyes and rushed quietly down the manor halls, they also believed other-me had returned and thought it best to stay as far as they could away from me.

I didn’t let it hurt.

I followed the garden pathways down their winding trails, the air cold as I breathed it into my lungs. Nothing bloomed in the garden now, winter laid heavy along the grounds, and the little herb garden I’d secretly tended now harvested. I didn’t have a garden back home in NYC, not even a little window box planter or potted plant; I had been trying my hardest just to keep myself alive and didn’t have much time or energy to spare something else.

It was funny, then, how other-me favored plants enough to spend time in the greenhouse on the Yuy estate. He’d spent so much time there that it’s where he met his end, late at night with nothing more than a fallen lantern. I wonder if he regretted how he’d treated Heero’s people, if he heard their shouts from outside the roaring fire as they tried to save him; I wonder if he was at least happy that he died in the one place in the Yuy estate he seemed to like, or if he thought it bitter irony; I wonder if he prayed to the Harvester in his last moments, never knowing his body would be taken by an impostor.

There was a quiet shift of air paces behind me; I glanced back reflexively, eyes raking over the quiet and empty courtyard. The Duchess Guard must really be slacking in training lately if even I could hear them moving about now.

I stopped in front of the greenhouse. It was still in shambles; the wooden frame was charred black, most of it in pieces scattered inside its small plot of land. The glass had been removed for months now, taken away by servants after the fire had been extinguished. The remnants of what had been inside – ashes upon ashes upon dirt – laid there still, only kept within what remained of the skeleton.

Howard had asked me once, days before I’d gone down to Ishigaki Village and inadvertently saved Meilan from her fate, if I wanted to rebuild it. On one hand, Heero would be shocked to see it gone; I remember he’d taken Relena there once to show her the blooming flowers he’d personally raised.

I wonder what it means, that he would rebuild the thing that killed his first spouse. That he would grow something delicate and beautiful inside it, so unlike the late Duchess that it could only be considered cruelty.

But Heero was too kind to be cruel, too good to have done something so petty on purpose.

Perhaps Heero had not been the one to rebuild it at all.

There is no snow laid thick across the courtyard, but the cold permeates the ground with a sort of muted chill that causes sounds to reverberate all the more loudly. I hadn’t noticed it before, but it seems to echo now – deft footfalls at a sedate pace, closing the distance between where I stand and the one coming up behind me.

I know who it is before I turn around.

“A bit too chilly for a garden stroll, isn’t it?” The words rolled off my tongue with the same amount of warmth as today’s weather, an almost-mocking copy of when they had been said to me just a month ago.

Quatre hardly blinked. “Yes, Your Grace,” he agreed, his voice earnest and a thousand times warmer.

I remembered Catherine’s words from the time I stayed at the barn, about Quatre’s multiple attempts to reconcile the volatile other-me with the Yuy estate’s people. Is this what he’d looked like, what he’d sounded like, as he tried to hold out the olive branch to someone who would sooner see it burn than take it?

“And yet here you are,” I continued dryly.

“And here I am.”

I resolutely turned my back on him, eyes returning to the remains of the greenhouse. God, talking to him while I was still processing was exhausting. How did anyone ever fight with Quatre? Come to think of it, I don’t think any of the protagonists did, and I was starting to see why.

I wondered for a brief moment if I was being unfair. It wasn’t as if Quatre had deliberately lied to me; he had never talked to me about religion, Heero’s or my own, and he never encouraged me to go to the church yesterday. He’d spent the majority of the day working in his study, as far as I’d been aware, and I hadn’t even seen him until that night.

But even if we had seen each other before then – would he have told me? Would he have mentioned that the Duo Maxwell that had existed previously followed a different faith, that I should only have been going to that church as a courtesy? Or would he have smiled and said nothing, as I prayed to something that no soul in this body had ever worshipped?

I hated this distrust, hated second-guessing everyone’s motivations. It felt too familiar, too common an element in the life I’d lived before I came here and something I thought I’d left behind. I didn’t like returning to it while everyone else got to live out a romance novel.

“Did Heero really care that much?” I asked, breaking the quiet atmosphere myself since Quatre didn’t seem inclined to, and I’d rather not just stand here silently as he hovered behind me. “That we didn’t share the same beliefs?”

Maybe Heero did – maybe that was another sticking point in the relationship between him and other-me, another strike against them both.

“…No. From what I understood, Your Grace being a follower of the Harvester was one of the reasons the Duke agreed to the marriage.”

I blinked in surprise, turning back around to look at the blonde. Quatre’s eyes were locked on the charred remains of the greenhouse as he continued, “There were many points of contention between Your Grace and His Grace the Duke, but your beliefs were not among them.”

_Yeah, I bet we had enough things to be angry about without adding religion to the mix._

“Even as a follower of the Harvester, you paid the occasional visit to Peacemillion churches in order to fulfill your duties as Duchess of the Yuy province – such as observing the donations of funds or art pieces to their places of worship. It would only have been unusual for you to enter their prayer room, and His Grace the Duke had ensured that would never have been asked of you.”

“Until yesterday, you mean,” I muttered, mostly to myself.

Quatre heard anyway because of course he did – god forbid any of these people don’t develop advanced hearing for the sole purpose of being able to hear my discontented grumbles. “Yes, until yesterday,” he agreed lowly.

…Why did his voice sound a bit ominous?

“You have every right to be angry. With Hilde and Howard,” Quatre’s eyes moved back to meet mine. “And with myself.”

My fists clenched at those words, not expecting the validation. Howard and Hilde had been the ones to directly lie to me, both in gestures and omittance of crucial information, but I hadn't been sure of Quatre's stake in the issue.

“Did you know?” I asked with forced calm.

Quatre's expression turned inwards, evoking that same measured ease that he used to approach distressing situations. It was a bit funny that just him conversing with me could pull up the same emotion he had when attempting to behead local gangsters. “I didn’t know they never told you about your usual routine at Peacemillion churches. I didn’t know they’d implied that you were more than just a respectful outsider to their practices, I didn’t know that you’d never been told about Peacemillion or the Harvester,” he answered.

I scoffed, turning back around to the wreck that should have killed me. “Sounds like you didn’t know anything then. Why are you trying to take on the blame?”

“Because I did know you.”

My body locked in place. The words sounded heavy with an emotion I couldn’t quite identify – guilt? Exhaustion?

“I know you’re a follower of the Harvester. I know you have amnesia. I know you felt guilty, felt responsible for things you can’t even remember doing. I know how you relied on those around you – like Hilde, Howard, myself, Lady Meilan, your knights and your servants. I know that reliance built a friendship between you and us that laid trust as its foundation.”

Quatre finally closed the short distance between us, drawing up to stand beside me before the remains of the greenhouse. His eyes had moved away from me once more, looking at the charred skeleton before us.

“There were so many things I knew before it came to this, so many things I could have put together. I should have realized what was happening before it did,” Quatre admitted. “But I—didn’t. And that was my fault, and I am sorry for it.”

I couldn’t help but look at him then. Not the glances I’d indulged in previously, but a closer examination; in the cool air of daylight, it was easier to see how tired he looked. Although he maintained his elegant posture, his face set in careful neutrality – I could see the emotional exhaustion, as if he really had been stewing over the ‘should-haves’ and ‘could-haves’ all night long.

Quatre Winner in the novel was a character known for his strategic mind and empathetic personality. He battled his enemies with both his blades and his wits; he was supportive and kind to his friends, often giving both the male and female lead helpful advice to guide them the right way in their romance.

If he’d been older, he would have been the stereotypical mentor figure. He was hardly ever taken by surprise; even rarer was he shown stressed by the circumstances the intrepid heroes found themselves in, both in and outside of battle. He was kind, intelligent, and reasonable.

_So why the hell was he blaming himself for all of this?_

“Quat, I don’t mean to insult you or anything, but that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Quatre blinked.

“You basically admitted you had no idea about any of this, but still think you should be included in the blame game because you blame yourself for _not_ knowing?” I snorted. “What next, should I also blame you for there being no air in space?”

Quatre’s eyes widened in bewilderment. “What do you mean there’s no air in—”

“ _So what I’m saying is,_ you’re really not to blame for this and I’m sorry for blowing up on you last night,” I steamrolled over him. Holy shit, maybe I need to spend more time looking into their scientific discoveries after all before I start revealing things I shouldn’t know. I really didn’t need to add ‘possibly experiencing visions from the future’ included in my biography here. “I won’t apologize for what I said because, well, I _did_ mean it… And parts of it were very true, you know… But even though I was upset, I shouldn’t have taken it out on Meilan or you. It wasn’t your fault.”

If we’re really going to cast blame around, then it would lay mostly on my shoulders. I should have been asking about my religious beliefs first, instead of waiting around for someone to point me in the right direction.

“It’s not your fault either, Your Grace,” Quatre said.

 _Gah._ “You really have to stop reading my mind, Quatre.”

A small smile poked out from his lips then. We spent a moment quietly together, our apologies mingling in the winter air. It felt strangely comforting – knowing that despite the way I reacted last night, despite how the shadow of the other-me still hangs over all of my interactions with the people in the estate, despite the cold frost in my words before – Quatre still believed in me.

“I can’t actually read minds, you know,” Quatre murmured.

I couldn’t help letting out a huff I amusement. I already knew that, but his ability came damn well close.

“Sometimes I can just…tell how others may feel,” he continued absently. “Like a brush of heat for anger, or a cold pang for fear. It’s not always easy or clear, but sometimes if it’s strong - I can tell.”

That made sense. He wasn’t infallible, but his empathy was still almost supernatural in a sense; he could be lied to about the facts and circumstances, but not about the emotional contexts. And he had enough emotional intelligence to be able to gauge people outside of his empathic abilities, taking in body language and facial expressions, to at least make accurate guesses on their ideas and motivations.

Quatre continued on, “You feel so different now, compared to you from before.”

The words struck me like lightning. _Don’t tell me he can actually tell I’m a completely different person!_

“R-Really? I guess I’m a bit easier to handle now, right? Ha ha…”

Quatre paused for a long moment. His stare resumed its match with the greenhouse as if seeing something else in its place. I felt a little offended he hadn’t immediately agreed; okay yeah, I tended to get into a lot of trouble, but I was a very friendly person otherwise!

“You were not… easy to get along with,” Quatre agreed slowly. “But even then, I did not dislike you, Your Grace.”

Some of the doubt must have shown in my face, as he continued. “I did not have the chance to get to know you before you married the Duke, and afterward, you never really allowed anyone the chance to do so. You were… You were very angry, even during your own wedding.”

I winced. I guess it was too much to hope that, at the very least, Heero’s wedding ceremony had gone smoothly.

“Your actions were sometimes cruel – but your words _always_ were. You never picked up a blade, but even so, you found a way to draw blood,” Quatre said. “No one was spared. Not the Duke, not his friends, not the servants.”

It was no wonder Quatre had thought the amnesia feigned – how does anyone come back and grow from a hate like that? It had been so striking that the blonde had initially believed I had been faking amnesia all along just so that I wouldn't have to explain myself and deal with the repercussions. Without wiping the slate clean, how could I go about making amends to the volumes of people that I had hurt?

“I’m not that… I’m not like that anymore,” I choked out, just trying to swallow the sheer magnitude of other-me’s hatred. Was it really just Heero’s perceived inferiority that generated such malignant fury?

“You’re not,” he agreed. “I think that’s one of the first things that struck me when I first encountered you after I returned. You were— _happy_ , content in a way I’d never seen before.”

It was a strange thing to hear after a whole night and morning spent just stewing in my misery. Before last night, I guess I had felt much more at ease here; the world and society may be new to me, but all of my immediate needs were being met and with my inclination for development and research, I found ways to put myself to use. It felt completely different from how I lived back in my old life.

“After last night, were you… were you worried, that who I was had come back?” I couldn’t help but ask. Isn’t that what everyone here always worried about, when it came to down to it? A return to the time before I had arrived?

That’s why I always had to be careful with how I conducted myself, even in this place that was supposed to be home. When any wrong word or action could be misconstrued as anything less than positivity, I knew those around me would be reminded of the true Duchess.

Quatre’s expression did something complicated, more pained at some thought he couldn’t quite articulate. “I worried _for you_ , Your Grace. I worried that you felt betrayed by our misguided attempts at loyalty and our inaction, that it made you feel that you had no choice but to become hardened and cold once more, if only to defend yourself.”

He looked again at the greenhouse, and it occurred to me that what he saw in its remains wasn’t simple ruin, but what I saw: _carnage_. There was no altering the fact that the greenhouse fire had changed the course of our combined history, although I was far more aware of just how much. Even then, Quatre understood that the fire had taken the Duo Maxwell he’d known; it may not have been through death as it had been in the novel, but the person standing before him was changed all the same.

“It wasn’t hatred that made you spiteful, Your Grace,” Quatre murmured. “It was _sorrow_. You felt abandoned and alone, and not one person could convince you otherwise.”

* * *

I took a couple of days for myself before my next encounter. It seemed exhaustive to dwell so much on what had happened after that long talk with Quatre, and I still hadn’t felt ready to deal with it immediately. So I took some time for myself, just not thinking about it at all; instead, I walked the length of the gardens with Quatre at my side, musing over what new crops I intended to plant after winter turned to spring. I talked with a couple of shopkeepers during my weekly jaunt to the town square and got them interested in selling the newest writing utensil (“It’s called a pen,” I repeated tiredly. The shopkeeper, Fritz, continued clicking the pen in awe.) I finally got a connection to a reliable glassblower and managed to wrangle out the location of bamboo (native to only a few provinces in Sanc, the Yuy dukedom not among them). I spent an afternoon revising the schematics for the steam-powered traction engine, idly nibbling on the savory snacks my timid maids would bring in.

It was on my fourth morning waking up to the polite knocks on my door from Kaori and the others that I finally decided to begin. I allowed them to help me bathe and dress, although I remained adamant about wearing the black pearl choker. They didn’t kick up a fuss, just made sure to coordinate my outfit so that it matched and pulled up my hair into the braided style I preferred instead of the more ornate hairstyles they’d indulged in before.

Once I was primped to satisfaction, I headed out to my target location. It wasn’t a very long walk, despite the sprawling halls of the Yuy estate, although I did not often spend a lot of time in this particular wing. Most gatherings happened in my part of the manor, at least before everything had blown up.

I paused only for a moment outside the heavy, cherrywood double-doors. Somewhere hidden further along behind me, I heard Lyle and Berion shift in tension.

 _If I fuck this up, at least death will be swift,_ I thought before steeling myself and throwing open the doors.

“MEILANpleasecomeandhaveadrinkwithme!!”

Meilan, sitting at her writing desk and I guess composing another one of her non-letters to Master Chang, stared at me in surprise.

“…Sure?”

* * *

“—and it was utterly reprehensible that they misled you like that, so I understand why you were angry and don’t blame you for it. And _I already said_ that if anything you do or say to me is insulting, I would discuss it with you directly!” Meilan continued to rant.

Quatre, seated on the other side of the table and taking an idle swallow of his drink, nodded in support. “Yes, Lady Meilan has always been very straight-forward.”

“I have no trouble telling you that you’re an asshole if you’re being one, Your Grace!” she continued vehemently. “So stop apologizing for things that aren’t your fault! If you're feeling upset, naturally I'd want to help you! There's no shame in wanting some time to collect yourself.”

I valiantly kept my eyes locked on Meilan’s face, which had steadily been turning pinker and pinker as the hour wore on.

Meilan was not discouraged by my taut silence. “I left you alone because you obviously wanted some time to yourself, but I wasn’t going to leave you alone forever! Even if you were angry at me, I was still going to talk to you eventually anyway!”

“That’s what friends do,” Quatre agreed with a beaming smile.

“And we’re friends still, right?!” Meilan demanded, turning wide eyes to me. The flush on her cheeks deepened.

“Yes,” I answered immediately, and then tried for the fourth time to remove the whiskey bottle from the table. Quatre absently grabbed it before my fingertips could even touch it, refilling his and Meilan’s glasses and setting the (now empty) bottle aside.

 _I can’t believe I got them day-drunk,_ I thought with a muted horror, although that feeling was a lot more pronounced on Sayaka’s face as she stood guard at the door to the drawing room.

“His Grace the Duchess is very relieved that you still consider him a friend,” Quatre burbled happily to the girl. “He’s also very concerned right now. “

A pause, and then Quatre turned his big baby blues on me. “Why are you so worried, Your Grace?”

“I’m worried you're going to get alcohol poisoning,” I told him. “Please stop drinking.”

Quatre honest-to-god _pouted_. “No.”

“I won’t get alcohol poisoning. I don’t even get drunk!” Meilan claimed, very drunk. “What I get is _justice_.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Meilan.”

Meilan scowled at me, which would have been threatening had she not been slowly listing over to one side. “It does if you’re Wufei,” she insisted, then paused. “I think I’ll smack him when I see him. He definitely deserves it.”

“Trowa understands me too,” Quatre interjected, his statement completely irrelevant to the actual topic but he didn’t really seem to notice. “He’s very handsome. And smart. And tall.”

I snorted into my glass. “The three most important traits in a relationship, I’m sure,” I teased.

Quatre frowned at me. It was very adorable.

“Anyway, what were we talking about?” Meilan mused, then continued without waiting for an answer. “About apologies. And Wufei.”

“You were the only one talking about Wufei,” I corrected her.

“So about Wufei,” Meilan started. “He never apologizes. Master Quatre apologizes for things that aren’t even his fault. Your Grace apologizes for things that are and aren’t his fault, and then tries to banish himself for it. No one is doing apologies right.”

We were definitely moving away from our original topic but I guess this was for the best.

“I’ll try to get it right,” I promised them quietly.

Meilan nodded. “The best apology is hand-to-hand combat,” she agreed solemnly.

_“No!”_

* * *

Despite Meilan’s idea to bring everyone together for what sounded like a battle royale, I did manage to get a good idea on how to go about finally getting past this as best we could. So that Sunday I brought all of the estate staff – the servants who dutifully served in the main estate, including the maids and stewards and cooks, along with Hilde and Howard – to the great hall, the only room large enough to fit everyone. (Catherine was also included, despite being more of a periphery servant, as she was Commander Barton’s sister and a close enough acquaintance to warrant an invite.) The Duchess Guard were watching from unobtrusive corners, staying out of the way but nevertheless present – either for guard duty or at my request. The only exceptions were the kids from the pathway program, such as Daigo and Connor; they were still scattered about the property doing their usual tasks and excluded from the meeting to do their work.

I stood at the very front of the room atop the low platform where the main table was usually placed for banquets. Both Quatre and Meilan were with me on either side, only a few steps back so that it was clear that I would be the one speaking.

“Everyone, thank you for coming,” I smiled at the room at large, utterly ignoring the fact that attendance had been mandatory. There were some nervous fidgeting and fleeting smiles in return, but their expectant eyes remained on me, even though some still glanced between me and the tense postures of Hilde and Howard.

I rallied together my courage, not daring to look in either two’s direction yet. “The reason for this meeting is to address some…things, that I probably should have talked about much earlier. As I know everyone here is aware – after my accident in the greenhouse a little less than a year ago, I developed a case of amnesia and forgot just about everything.”

A few murmurs of agreement. Catherine, the only outlier, gaped at me in shock. Come to think of it, no one ever told her about my ‘amnesia,’ did they…

“I have a somewhat vague understanding of what I was like before the greenhouse,” I continued. “About some of the things I said and did, especially to everyone here. I am the Duchess of the Yuy ducal family, I am responsible for the people of this estate – and yet I have not been doing my job. Instead, I have been actively harming everyone that I am responsible for.”

I took a deep breath, my heart hammering in my chest for whatever reason. I knew logically that I wasn’t technically at fault for what the other-me had done, but I still felt responsible for it in some capacity, and I would be the one facing the consequences of that behavior regardless. No matter what I personally thought about it, it was still a nerve-wracking thing to consider.

“Y-Your Grace…” Someone choked out.

I shook my head, halting their response.

“I was cruel, for no reason other than that I could be,” I said. _Your actions were sometimes cruel – but your words **always** were,_ Quatre had told me. “I was rude and standoffish, and I took that out on everyone around me.”

Despite that behavior, despite the fear that other-me had encouraged – the attitudes and behavior of the Yuy estate’s servants had been commendable. Kaori, Coralina, and Melissa still dutifully attended to me; Morris still cooked whatever meals I preferred; Jiroh and the other stewards still maintained the estate in my absence; Mikhail and the other knights still went out of their way to ensure my safety; Catherine still managed the stable and horses; Howard still reviewed the estate and provincial budget; Hilde still watched out for both my safety and comfort without any complaint.

“I want to apologize for my behavior. I want to apologize for the things I said to you, for the things I did to you.”

It would have been so easy to take advantage of my ignorance much earlier. But for the longest time, they didn’t; they helped me, they listened to me, they gave me advice and shared gossip and answered all of my questions regardless of whether they thought them silly or serious.

One time, as far as I knew, did a small number of them take advantage of me; in comparison, the me that existed in their eyes had taken advantage of their lack of power many, _many_ times.

“No one deserved the way I treated them. I was wrong, and no one here is under any obligation to forgive me,” I said, looking from person to person. “I hurt each one of you, in large and small ways, and _I am so sorry.”_

I looked at Hilde and Howard. “But apologies…apologies are just words. They don’t mean anything if nothing changes, if the behavior remains the same,” I stated with a quiet calm, with the kind of deep acceptance that was reflected both in my tone and in my eyes. “And I want things to change. I want to be better – for myself, for the Duke, and for all of you.”

It wasn't only my apologies that weren't enough. I had implied, however vaguely, that Hilde, Howard, and anyone else who had used my own ignorance against me would need to do more than just say the right thing. I needed to repent for the mistakes and wrongdoings of other-me, but just the same, I expected those who hurt or misled me to do their own due diligence in seeking out forgiveness.

Father Maxwell had waxed a lot of poetics on forgiveness back when I was young, when forgiveness was the last thing on my mind. Some of the lessons stuck, and one of them was that even though sincere apologies may have been given - that did not automatically mean forgiveness would be granted. To forgive someone was a process; sometimes short, sometimes long, sometimes never at all. I had to be ready for whatever outcome that may be.

I bowed my head.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to even try and become someone better.”

To my utter horror, Kaori abruptly burst into tears.

 _“Y-Your Graaaace!”_ she wailed, sounding so much like Commander Broden that I immediately felt the urge to hide my guards.

“Why is the Duchess apologizing?!” Morris the cook exclaimed. “His Grace has _already_ changed! If your palate changes any more, I’m going to need a bigger kitchen!”

That was _not_ the point of the apology!!

Esther, the gardener, gave Morris a deeply unimpressed look. “We’re growing all of the new herbs and spices already. Why do you need to extend the kitchen? It’s not like the serving size has changed!”

"Because His Grace keeps _destroying parts of it!"_

Quatre gently interrupted the clamor brewing within the crowd. “His Grace the Duchess has been trying to make positive changes, both in the estate and in the province at large. As loyal servants of the Yuy family, he will rely on us, now and in the future,” he explained, gifting everyone gathered before us his trademark angelic smile that only somewhat blinded them. “We must support him, just as much as he will support us.”

Inexplicably, there were many fervent nods at that.

Quatre turned flinty blue eyes on Hilde and Howard. “We must also be truthful with him, as he puts his trust in us,” he continued. “To insult him is to insult the Duke. To misguide him is to misguide the entire province.”

 _Jesus Christ,_ Quat, tone it down a notch!

Hilde and Howard dropped back down to their knees, reminiscent of that night in my study a week ago. The people behind them watched with wide eyes; it was already a widely-known fact among the staff what they had done, but I suppose they were just as freaked out as I was to see Hilde and Howard acting so subservient.

“We were wrong, and we have disgraced ourselves and abused your trust in us as loyal servants,” Hilde announced, voice loud and clear. “We will accept any punishment His Grace the Duchess sees fit.”

 _“Punish--?!”_ I choked out.

Then it was Howard’s turn. “If His Grace wishes to strip us of our current positions and reassign us to a different role, we will do so without complaint. If His Grace wishes to relocate us to the estate in the Capital, we will go. If His Grace wishes to terminate our employment, we will leave immediately.”

Why is everyone trying to throw themselves under the bus in this place! “Hold on, I never said anybody was going to get punished,” I interjected.

Meilan crossed her arms. “There should be _some_ punishment, Your Grace,” she reasoned. “They broke your trust.”

 _I think serving other-me for a year was more than enough punishment,_ I didn’t say. “It’s unnecessary now. _I_ apologized, _they_ apologized – it’s fine now!”

Quatre frowned, “The Duke would not agree.”

 _Oh for the love of—_ “Then Heero can decide the punishment after he returns,” I snapped. There’s no way he would punish them for something like this, especially when I was the one at the center of it. Heero had always been very just and fair in the novel, and had a soft spot for his servants and never exploited his power over them. They shouldn’t get anything more than a slap on the wrist. “This matter will be at rest until then.”

Both Quatre and Meilan conceded. I gestured for Hilde and Howard to get back to their feet, and turned to the rest of the estate servants. Kaori had calmed back down to the occasional sniffle, although some of the others looked to be on the verge of joining her. I hadn’t realized so many people that worked here were that easily moved to tears.

I tried an encouraging smile. “Alright everyone, that’s all I wanted to share. Thank you for coming and bearing with me.” Then, possessed by my master’s degree thesis presentation, I added. “Any questions?”

One brave soul raised their hand. “…Miss Catherine?” I called out, steeling myself for whatever may come from Commander Barton’s sister. I can only imagine what horrible things I said to someone directly related to one of Heero’s closest confidantes.

Catherine stared up at me with narrowed eyes. “Is the amnesia why you didn’t know my brother and Master Winner were married, Your Grace?”

I stared at her. _That’s_ what she was concerned about?

Behind me, Quatre gifted his sister-in-law with an endearing smile. “The Duchess didn’t even know _he himself_ was married, much less anyone else.”

“ _What_.”

The hand of one of my maids, Melissa, shot up next. “Does this mean you don’t know what the Duke actually looks like, Your Grace?!”

“His portrait is hanging in my study so I have a good idea…”

Coralina gasped as if I’d just personally insulted my absent husband. “That portrait does _not_ do him justice, Your Grace!”

“Wait – so you just woke up one day married to someone you knew absolutely nothing about?” One of the butlers, Jiroh, exclaimed in shock. “And in a _place_ you knew nothing about?!”

There were horrified murmurs. Kaori started crying again.

“It’s okay, it’s been almost a year,” I interrupted them. “I got used to it.”

_“What does Your Grace mean, you ‘got used to it’?!”_

_“Your Graaaace!!”_

_“I thought some of his memories came back?”_

_“Is this why he exploded that pig rump…?”_

_“Does this mean His Grace the Duchess doesn’t even remember his own wedding night?!”_

_“YOUR GRAAAACE!!”_

I turned around. “Meilan, remember when you told me that I should get used to delegation?”

Meilan, eyes skittering from me to the raucous crowd and back, nodded distrustfully.

“Great!” I beamed at her. “ _You_ handle this.”

I beat a hasty retreat, Meilan letting out a stream of curses in my wake.

Engaging in hand-to-hand combat with a trained expert seemed much more merciful in comparison to staying and dealing with all that.

* * *

**A/N** : One more chapter until Heero’s arrival!

Also, absolutely loving everyone in the comments going "Deathscythe❤️" and then proceeding to scream about all different versions of Duo. Y'all are valid.

@Anon - I see you understand Meilan _very well_ here, because she absolutely "wants to Fight About It because that's clearly the best conflict resolution available at all times always."

(And yes, that was indeed Solo being a creeper in church.)

I am reading everyone's theories so far on who is doing what and _I am living._ I also hope that everyone feels relieved that the choker isn't somehow manipulating Duo's emotions. But then - what _does_ it do? ;)

Anyway, p _lease be kind and_ ** _drop a comment and kudos!_ :)**


	18. Arc I, Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's just a lot going on, which is a more honest way to end this year tbh

**A/N** : I know I said this last chapter, but even I was taken by surprise at how fast this chapter came out... Anyway, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

 _Warnings for this chapter:_ There's a dead bird... _kinda_.

* * *

**Chapter 18**

* * *

> _Dear Heero,_
> 
> _Winter has arrived! I hope you’re staying warm, wherever you are, although Howard should have sent you some fur coats along with this letter. I tried to pick a suitable style that is easy for you to move in, but don’t feel obligated to wear it if it gets in the way or you dislike the fashion._
> 
> _Everyone in the estate is doing well. The winter frost has put our gardens to sleep for a time, but Esther assures me everything will be back in bloom by the time you arrive. A few days ago, I was taking my usual afternoon stroll (ensconced in what must be the entire province’s supply of winter cloaks, I swear!) and was reminded we had yet to deal with the greenhouse. I wanted to ask – is it possible to change that little plot of land to maybe a pumpkin patch? I find I’m not too fond of greenhouses anymore…_

* * *

“You’ve gotten far more nimble, Your Grace,” Meilan said shrewdly, watching with hawkish eyes as Duo danced around Geralt’s lunges. The kindly giant of a man had been working the Duchess through some self-defense moves if he had to face someone attempting to make a grab for him, and the braided dandy had picked up the workarounds astoundingly fast.

Speed wasn’t the only thing the Duchess had improved in; his stamina and strength had also grown by leaps and bounds. It wasn’t anything close to the Duke, of course, but there were times where Meilan thought that maybe even Master Quatre would have some trouble subduing the previously-fragile man.

“It’s because I spent so much time running from my problems,” Duo explained dryly.

Meilan couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Weak or strong, it seemed the Duchess always had time to make snippy remarks.

“Lady Aurora told me that I could behead people for rolling their eyes at me.”

Meilan just rolled her eyes even harder.

* * *

> _Dear Duo,_
> 
> _Thank you for the fur coats. The design is fine and I appreciate the thought. I hope you are staying safe and warm. Please let Howard know if there’s anything you need in the immediate future. This of course extends to your idea regarding the greenhouse; as I’ve stated before, you are free to do as you wish regarding it, whether you plan to rebuild it or discard it. If a pumpkin patch is what you want instead, then that is what it shall be. ~~But what exactly is a pumpkin?~~_
> 
> _We are currently still on the move through the barbarian territories, but I suppose if you’re interested in “tales from the borderlands” then I really must tell you about what happened just last week with Trowa and a very pregnant, very angry mountain lion…_

* * *

“You gave it to him already, did you?”

Solo Maxwell perked up, unsticking his forehead from the roll of parchment he had lain it on to take a quick nap. His desk, if it had any right to be called that, was almost indistinguishable from the mountains of papers, parchments, and tomes scattered both over it and around it. The scene was so commonplace that the man in the doorway hardly glanced it over.

“It seemed as good a time as any,” Solo replied with a jaunty grin. “There’d be no point in waiting.”

Duke Maxwell let out a huff that could be either amusement or exasperation. Both feelings were equally likely when he had to deal with his eldest son, especially when matters concerned the youngest member of the Maxwell ducal family.

“No, I suppose not,” Duke Maxwell agreed.

Solo’s grin softened to something more natural, less predatory. He looked away from his father to refocus on the letter he’d been writing, violet eyes skimming the words he’d written nearly three hours ago before his impromptu nap.

Violet – the color of their family, the color of their inheritance that came in so many different shades. Solo’s were lighter, closer to lilac; the Duke’s were similar, as his father’s had been, and his father before him.

Duo was the only Maxwell in a very long time who had been blessed with true violet eyes, so close to jeweled amethyst that they were the envy of the court.

“Is he well?” Duke Maxwell asked softly.

After a moment, Solo let out a small sigh. He folded his short letter in half and then rolled it up, moving towards the dark wood stand in the corner of his room where his favorite messenger raven waited. “As well as can be expected,” Solo answered, tying his message to the bird’s leg with deft hands. “Duke Yuy should return by winter’s end.”

Duke Maxwell watched as his son allowed the raven to perch on his hand, heading over to his window and sending it off with a swift gesture. “He'll arrive too late,” the older man murmured.

Solo’s eyes never leave the raven. “Yes,” he agreed softly. “Too late.”

* * *

> _Dear Heero,_
> 
> _Honestly, I don’t know how you expect me to start this letter with a pleasant greeting after telling me about Commander Barton’s adventure in feline birthing practices! Do you know what image is now forever unwillingly stuck in my mind? Commander Barton covered in cat placenta. I am equally horrified and amused. Also, I had no idea that the Commander’s side-occupation was being a cat whisperer but this explains so much about Quatre that I want to stop thinking about it immediately._
> 
> _Speaking of unpleasant things I learned about the people I care deeply for, you’ll be happy to know that Commander Broden has finally acknowledged our moratorium on bears. However, he has now moved on to wild boars…_

* * *

Mikhail surveyed the room of expectant faces with a critical eye. He could practically smell the naivete wafting off these green upstarts, thinking they’d earned a cozy little promotion after Commander Broden ordered them to their new assignments.

The Duchess Guard, over a year ago, had been considered a job no one wanted given the Duchess’s propensity for verbal lashings and utter refusal to step out of the estate. They’d never needed more than two knights for the role, and the upper ranks of the Duke’s guard would essentially draw sticks when it came to the assignment.

Now, it was a prestigious position offered only to the very best. They could afford no less.

“There is no room for error here,” Mikhail’s voice thundered throughout the room, his tone so ominous that every person within immediately straightened their spines. “If you allow yourself to slack, even a little bit – then you’ll find His Grace the Duchess knee-deep in trouble. And probably bleeding.”

“Most likely bleeding,” Lyle stated with a haunted look to his eyes. “ _Definitely_ bruised.”

“Each bruise on the Duchess’s lovely face or body means 100 pushups, 100 situps, and 100 laps around the estate,” Mikhail intoned. “A cut that noticeably bleeds is double that. Multiply that amount for any subsequent injury. And if the Duchess, at any point, falls into mortal danger – don’t expect to sleep for the next _week_.”

Asahi, in the back, whimpered.

“There will be times where the Duchess wants to do something dangerous,” Mifune began. “Do not encourage him. Do not _discourage_ him either. Look towards Miss Hilde or Master Winner for guidance.”

She paused, considering. “If His Grace smiles though… Then accept your fate.”

Oh god, the _smiles_. Each bright grin made them want to simultaneously agree with whatever the Duchess said and curl up into a tiny little ball of stress and tears. The only thing that stopped them from doing that was the possible danger said Duchess may get into if they ever looked away from him.

One hand was slowly raised, wavering only slightly in the face of so much obvious trauma being exuded by the current Duchess Guards’ expressions. “Um,” a newly-promoted Duchess Guard, Sherry, began hesitantly. “H-How do the porcupines factor into this?”

Mikhail took a page from the Duchess’s and Master Winner’s book – and _smiled_.

“I hope you’re all ready for some innovative new training methods!”

* * *

> _Dear Duo,_
> 
> _I apologize for my graphic retelling of Trowa’s finest hour. I also must admit that I’m not entirely sure what you mean by ‘cat whisperer’ but it sounds like something that Trowa would be, so I am in complete agreement with you. Do not worry; I have no intention of paying the commander for his unexpected side occupation. I have also instructed him to reject Acting Commander Broden’s newest request, though I fear we may have to compromise at some point._
> 
> _We came across a rather large village in our travels the other day. I spoke with some of the villagers, as we had set up camp nearby and they were eager to trade goods with us. It’s there I discovered a very intriguing piece: a sculpture of a long-feathered bird made entirely of jade. They’d wrapped its talons around several small jewels, and set it on a dark wooden platform for easy transport. The village elder stated they’d scavenged the sculpture from a ransacked caravan some ways from the village, and was willing to trade it for some fine metals. I agreed to the deal; the sculpture, in all of its beauty, reminded me of you…_

* * *

Duo glared at his trio of escorts with something approaching incredulity. “It’s a _walk,”_ he said, stressing the last word as if they somehow didn’t know it. “I have been on plenty of walks. I am not leaving the gardens. You do not need to circle me like you’re preparing for a fight.”

Meilan didn’t look impressed by his reasoning. The two Duchess Guards hovering behind her just looked faintly distressed, an expression all of the new guards wore whenever Duo dared to leave the safety of the estate walls. He had no idea what his seasoned guards were telling these people…

Duo huffed out an exasperated sigh. “Look, just give me a few minutes to myself, okay? I want to enjoy just a few moments deluding myself that I am a strong, independent dandy that doesn’t need a constant guard stalking my every step.”

“But you do need a constant guard stalking your every step,” Meilan pointed out, dark eyes boring a hole into the scars hidden behind the pearl choker Duo had taken to wearing.

“That’s why I called it a delusion.”

Meilan eventually conceded although it did take her a few fair minutes to do so. Duo internally applauded her efforts to live up to Hilde’s stalkerish ways as he meandered away, making sure to at least stay within eyesight his little retinue but still putting enough distance between them so he didn’t feel smothered.

There wasn’t much to see in the courtyard in this season, but the fresh air did him good and he was starting to very feel very physically fit; the cold of winter no longer affected him quite as strongly as before. Duo chalked it up to his enduring physical training lessons and couldn’t help a smug little smile at the thought.

Moving closer to one of the larger trees in the courtyard, its leaves long gone, his eyes were drawn to a small black figure laying near the roots. It took a moment for him to identify the lump as a mass of feathers, the icy frost making its black wings shimmer in the daylight.

Crouching down, Duo eyed the bird in curiosity. _Is it dead…?_

It didn’t appear to be breathing, but Duo didn’t know enough about birds to know if people could even discern that. He guessed it was either a raven or a crow, based on its color; it also didn’t look like it was doing too well, given the frost and the fact that its wing was bent a decidedly unpleasant angle.

Perhaps a stray feline had got to it? What was it even doing here? Winter was fast coming to a close but it was still too cold for the birds to begin migrating back.

Feeling some sense of obligation to at least see if the bird could be saved, Duo gingerly turned it over with a thin stick he’d picked up. His nose wrinkled at the sight he’d uncovered: its stomach looked to have been chewed through, the mushy insides practically in full view. _Definitely a stray cat then,_ Duo thought.

He honestly felt a bit disappointed. He’d heard some cool things about corvids, and if he could save the bird, maybe he could train it or something. Wouldn’t that be cool? Black choker necklace, black bird… He could have lived out some dark goth fantasy aesthetic!

Standing back up, Duo hesitated before turning away. Esther or one of the other gardeners would find and dispose of the bird eventually, so there was no reason to bother Meilan or the others with it. Besides, Duo just caught sight of Quatre’s little blonde head around the corner – it was time for Quat Bonding Hours!

As Duo called out to the blonde, his footsteps taking him across the courtyard and around the corner, the little raven laid there.

And laid there.

And laid there.

_…And twitched._

With a quietly violent crack, one black wing spread open.

* * *

> _Dear Heero,_
> 
> _I know it sounds silly coming from me, but don’t feel obligated to buy me fine art and jewels if you think the money is better spent elsewhere. However, the sculpture you described sounds beautiful, and your kind words moreso. ~~I feel like my damn cheeks are overheating with this blush.~~ I guess this is where I admit that I’ve been indulging in some shopping as well… I couldn’t help it, you see, because Quatre said that after so much time away, it’s likely your clothes won’t fit you well anymore, and you know how fashion is always changing! So I’ve been buying some outfits that I think would really suit you, although we’ll have to wait until you return to make the appropriate adjustments for size._
> 
> _I can’t wait until you’re back, Heero! There have been so many changes to our little corner of Sanc, and I want to show you all of them. I’ve finally sold Gin and some of the other shopkeepers in town on the idea of cafes (cafes are like little taverns except instead of beer, they sell coffee, tea, and cakes) and they’ve been popping up all over the marketplace. Morris stocked our kitchen with some of the same things, but let me tell you, Daigo does **not** need coffee added to his regular meals. Usually to make Howard look that pale and traumatized, I had to describe the statistical chances of me possibly blowing myself up trying to get this damned carbon filament to work…_

* * *

Governor Rohito had welcomed them with a grand feast, lively entertainment, and a big smile that he maintained the entire time he gave them the tour of the newly-made blast furnaces. Both Wufei and Trowa had spent an inordinate amount of time scouring the furnaces and the mines, double- and triple-checking these ‘steam engines’ that had apparently become popular across the Yuy province in their absence.

Heero was honestly just as lost as they were when it came to these changes, but he had a small bundle of letters kept tied with a violet ribbon safely stowed away in his personal trunk that had at least vaguely explained some of it. He hadn’t really been paying the explanations much attention when he’d read them the first time ( _or second time, or third time, or fourth…_ ), so seeing them in person was still a bit shocking.

Aoba-ku was _bustling_. Heero only had a fleeting memory of the place when he’d passed through it as a teenager, but from what he did remember, it had never been so busy. The population numbers had seemingly doubled, the small town it had been growing into something larger and more colorful.

“We were honored to host His Grace the Duchess’s visit last spring,” Governor Rohito recalls fondly, similar to a grandfather recounting a pleasant visit from a favored grandchild. “His presence truly was a blessing on this town!”

…Or maybe more like a devout follower finding salvation…?

Heero knew without turning around that Trowa and Wufei had exchanged a dubious look. They shared the same opinion on the Duchess after all – that Duo’s presence was anything _but_ a blessing.

Heero nodded at Governor Rohito’s words, choosing to let the man speak reverently about his husband and his (mis)adventures in the once-tiny Aoba-ku. Almost absently, Heero’s eyes drifted to his wedding ring, still wrapped around his finger.

Would Duo be wearing his upon Heero’s return?

* * *

> _Dear Duo,_
> 
> _Spring has come early, at least for us; the frost has long abated and the air no longer grows so heavy with cold. I am reluctant to part with the fur coat you’d chosen for me, and Wufei has taken to rolling his eyes every time he sees it pulled onto my shoulders. Do you think he learned it from Lady Meilan, or was it the other way around?_
> 
> _Nevertheless, the distance between us and home grows narrower. I know Howard should have told you that we’d reached the Capital some days ago, but we did not stay for long. I made my report to Her Majesty the Queen, and stopped to purchase some finery in the style you favor. You deserve all the art and jewels you desire, Duo, and it seems the fine folk of Aoba-ku agree with me…_

* * *

Evenings were no longer so chilly in the Yuy estate. The Duchess had been abuzz with energy all week; talking about the plants (more crops than actual flowers) he intended to add to his garden, the clothes and trinkets he’d taken to picking up from the marketplace (all gifts for the Duke), and now with the news that Duke Yuy had finally left the Sanc capital city and crossed into the borders of the Yuy province.

They’d all been busy, finally putting into motion the homecoming plans they’d stewed over for two seasons. There were some changes here and there, the Duchess making constant revisions to the menu to include the Duke’s favorite foods and also some of the newer beverages and delicacies he’d had a hand in developing.

Hilde was glad for it. Their relationship, however odd it had been since the Duchess awoke not even knowing who he was a year ago, had not returned to what it was after he woke; it stung a little, but Hilde had understood the repercussions of what she'd done.

Just as the Duchess had said, apologies were not enough. Atonement must be shown through behavior, not words. Words were a start, words could help, but she had to do more.

Words could also hurt.

Within the privacy of her own bedchamber, Hilde crouched beside the fireplace and watched the small piece of parchment burn. The words, written in a familiar scrawl, were lost to the flames.

Pinched between two tips of her calloused fingers was a single black feather.

* * *

> _Dear Heero,_
> 
> _Is it sad or amusing that I am so worried that the flowers in our estate will not be in bloom when you return? All this talk of your spring return had planted (Ha! Get it?) the idea in my head of many beautiful flowers well within reach upon your homecoming, and the image is so firmly rooted (haha!) that I’d considered importing some from Ishigaki. Don’t worry – Hilde stopped me, but she had to call in Howard for back-up since Meilan looked like she was going to side with me. Quatre abstained and hid in his study all day, but given his husband, maybe he was disappointed I hadn’t suggested mountain lions._
> 
> _Rest well, Heero. We’re excited to have you back, but I don’t want you to overexert yourself just to get here. We will be here waiting for you, as we have been all this time…_

* * *

Taking tea out in the rose garden had been an uphill struggle. The servants weren’t always so fanatical, but there was something about this winter that had set them on edge. Perhaps it had been because of another successful campaign by the young Duke Yuy, or getting the odd fleeting glimpse of the Maxwell Heir idling around the castle, or the sporadic absences of the Crown Prince that all in the Sanc court refused to acknowledge.

She didn’t let it get to her. Practice made perfect, and the increased paranoia of her attendants was a symptom of the much larger issue facing her. With a wry smile, she set her teacup back down into its saucer, cornflower blue eyes meandering over the enclosed rose garden once more. The boarded fence lining all four sides were covered in rose vines not yet flowering, although soon the pink and white blooms would surround her each time she hosted a guest come spring.

Relena Darlian couldn’t help but sigh. Tea parties had become a common fixture in her life, and the next one was never far away. It wasn't always a tedious thing; she'd made a fair few friends by simply sitting in this rose garden and sharing tea, after all. She knew she would need those connections further down the line, after she truly stepped into the exhaustive world of Sanc court politics.

Even still, she couldn't help but muse, "Google would be _so_ helpful right about now..."

* * *

> _Dearest Duo,_
> 
> _We are set to arrive within the next few days._
> 
> _Hoping to see you well--_
> 
> _Your Husband, Heero  
> _

* * *

**END OF ARC I**

* * *

**A/N** : It felt kinda strange, writing Duo from a 3rd-person perspective lol

Anyway, it's the end of Arc I, everyone! Thank you thank you thank you!! Arc II is set to begin, and it has the (dubious?) pleasure of having Heero (and the boys) featured in pretty much every chapter! Reunion time has arrived~

Even though I've separated this story into arcs (there are 3 total), I think I will keep it all to this story - so you don't need to worry about bookmarking a series or anything. Every chapter will be uploaded to this fic here.

_Please be kind and **drop a comment and kudos!**_ **:)**


	19. Arc II, Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions are had.
> 
> Duo: omg he's EXHAUSTED poor bb needs to sleep!!  
> Heero: *having an internal meltdown every time Duo so much as looks at him*

**A/N** : 2021 LET'S GOOOO!! Begin Arc II!!

 _So what does Arc II mean?_ Well, there’s gonna be a change… In Arc I, the format of the chapters was 2 Duo chapters (first-person POV) followed by one _Dear Heero_ chapter (third-person POV).

** THIS WILL BE CHANGED FOR ARC II.  **

From this Arc on, it will follow an A-B-C format: **A** (one Duo-POV chapter), **B** (one Heero-POV chapter), and then **C** (limited third-person POV from one of the other characters). I decided to do it this way since there will be some plot-related things that Heero will be privy to but NOT Duo, and at some point, Duo’s POV will be useless to the readers so lol

* * *

**Chapter 19**

* * *

The fight over what I would wear for Heero’s homecoming had been brutal. By the end of it, both Kaori and Melissa had shed more than a fair amount of tears, Coralina smelled like an entire soap store, and Hilde looked as if she wanted to die right there in my closet. I very politely held my tongue (and tears) as they fussed and prodded over me, and then made sure to give them a very big and appreciative smile at their final product.

The outer layer was a dark violet kimono-like silk coat patterned with lilac flowers, long sleeves draped nearly to my knuckles when my arms were at rest by my sides. It hung snug on my shoulders, exposing the full width of my collarbone, above which rested the black pearl choker. The inner layer was a pearl pink chiffon dress that fell just past my knees, both the inner and outer layers cinched at my waist with a wide belt made of lilac-colored silk. White tights were tucked into equally white boots with silver heels.

Half of my hair was pulled into an intricately-woven braided bun, my bangs and loose strands framing my face. Looped within the braids was the diamond-encrusted silver rope hair ornament Heero had apparently gifted me at some point, and aside from it and the pearl choker, the only other piece of jewelry I wore was my wedding ring.

I was sincerely impressed – while the style was more opulent than what I preferred, it was obvious they’d tried to incorporate at least a little of my own personal preferences. They limited the number of accessories and acquiesced to the wearing of my favorite choker, and the heels on my boots were much shorter than previous ones. It was also surprisingly easy to move, and Melissa had even (conspiratorially) told me that I had pockets woven into the inner side of my sleeves.

I’d stored a few small pouches of peanuts in one pocket, pulling it out to snack on when I had the chance. Quatre gave me what felt like a very judgmental glance but I’d like to see him try to work off one bowl of consommé for his breakfast. (The servants had been worried I’d spoil my appetite for the dinner feast, so I was restricted to tea and what I’d labeled _“the spirit of soup, but like, depressed.”)_ Meilan just helped herself to some of the nuts.

Fortunately, we had been blessed with good weather for the day of Heero’s arrival. It was a tradition for the household (both the Duchess and all the servants) to wait out front for the Duke’s return after a long journey, the knights who had stayed behind lining the driveway up and scattered among the provincial capital’s streets to ensure order among the citizens. What this meant was that once we’d received word that the Duke had reached town, we were all prettily lined up outside the front door as we set in to wait for the 30 minutes it would take the Duke’s forces to arrive.

So… I ate some nuts.

“ _Why_ do you have so many pouches of nuts? Are you a squirrel?” Quatre bemoaned quietly. As close friends and allies of Heero, both he and Meilan were positioned on either side of me, only a step behind given our social positions. Howard was standing about a stone throw’s away, in front of most of the household staff, though occasionally he sent me a long-suffering look every time I popped another peanut into my mouth. Hilde just contented herself with boring a hole into the back of my head, positioned several feet behind me holding Heero’s gift.

“You sound jealous, Quat,” I replied glibly. “Did you want some?”

“No thank you.” Pause. “I don’t believe Melissa meant she wanted you to hide away snacks in your sleeves when she told you about the pockets. I think you were supposed to store some pleasant-smelling satchels there instead.”

I rolled my eyes. “First, I don’t even need to wear those perfume satchels anymore after Gil finally perfected his perfume. I already smell like honey-apple,” I said, then narrowed my eyes at the blonde in suspicion. “Second, how did _you_ know Melissa’s the one that told me about the pockets?”

Quatre hummed noncommittally. “She feels the most guilty every time she looks over here and sees you chewing on nuts,” he answered.

I valiantly did not roll my eyes again at his subtle guilt-tripping, instead offering the last pouch of nuts to Mikhail who was standing adjacent to Meilan. With a very Hilde-like look, he took the pouch with a small thanks and popped a few nuts into his mouth.

Behind me, I heard Hilde sigh.

Quatre shot me a grateful look, blue eyes bright. “By the way, Your Grace, you look stunning today,” he said, obviously throwing a compliment my way to soothe my now peanut-less self. Given that it was Quatre, though, it came across as utterly sincere.

“I think this is the most— _pretty_ I’ve seen you,” Meilan agreed. I wondered what word she’d replaced ‘pretty’ with.

I snorted. “Yes, it was four hours well-spent,” I muttered. “Now I’m the prettiest lawn ornament out here.”

I wasn’t sure what Quatre was going to say in response to that – probably something sarcastic, he really needed a Snickers bar – a servant further down the road announced the arrival of the Duke. From what I understood, Heero would be approaching with a relatively small contingent; the bulk of the force would have either stayed back in town if that’s where they lived, or headed towards the outer barracks where most of the soldiers slept. Their medics and non-fighting personnel (like cleaning servants and cooks) would have splintered off back with the soldiers.

The Duke’s retinue would be his closest advisors (only Commander Barton and Master Chang at the moment, as Quatre was with me), a dozen or so high-ranked knights, and their squires. It was for these people (sans the squires who would leave for the barracks near the estate) and the Duke that tonight’s dinner feast would be held.

Heart hammering in my chest, I unconsciously straightened my posture and turned my eyes towards the drive. I knew Heero’s personality through his character in the novel, knew his looks through the portrait in the study; this image of him was combined with the one I’d learned through letters, which showed a man with a dry sense of humor and unexpected romanticism.

But people were different in person, weren’t they?

Maybe once he saw my face in person, he’d be reminded of the man who had tormented him through a year of miserable marriage. Maybe after so much time away, he had gotten over whatever it was that had made him so lenient with other-me and was coming back to exact proper justice. After all, in the novel, Heero had returned as a widow – but here I was, still breathing despite the novel’s best efforts.

“It’s going to be okay, Your Grace,” Quatre whispered to me in encouragement.

I clenched my hands into white-knuckled fists. _Easy for you to say, your husband actually likes you!_

“Don’t worry, Your Grace,” Meilan interjected. “If it gets to be too much, I’ll just tell Wufei that I threw out his hydrangeas. That _always_ gets him going.”

_And **your** relationship makes even less sense than **mine**!_

“You’d start a fight with your husband just for me?” I couldn’t help but ask her skeptically.

“I’d start a fight with Wufei just to pass the time.”

I stared at her.

_“ANNOUNCING THE RETURN OF HIS GRACE THE DUKE!”_

I flinched and turned back around, eyes finally landing on the approaching procession. The dark blue banners of the Yuy ducal family were held proudly high on either side of the small force, the slow trot of the horses drawing ever closer to where we stood. It looked to be about 15 or so people, all atop decorated steeds proudly mantled in the armor of the Sanc Kingdom, the finer accessories marking them as from the Yuy province.

It was ridiculously easy to tell who were major characters in the novel.

Commander Trowa Barton was a tall, lithe man, with a sweep of auburn bangs that had a tendency to obscure at least one of his emerald green eyes at any given time. He was the kind of handsome that should have stood out in a crowd, but according to the novel, he was oft-overlooked when in the public eye. It seemed ludicrous to me now, because even compared to the fitness model types of my Duchess Guard, Commander Barton was leagues above them.

Master Chang Wufei was no slouch in the looks department either; silken black hair was pulled back into a strict ponytail, equally dark eyes set in an austerely handsome face. It was easy to imagine him as both the astute military advisor of the Duke and the flower-obsessed husband of Meilan.

Both of them paled in comparison to Heero Yuy.

Naturally-tousled dark brown hair framed a cuttingly beautiful face, his features more delicate than expected but any notion of fragility was shattered by the look in those Prussian blue eyes, which almost seemed to have a wild sort of sparkle to them. He was lean with muscle and tanned from his work battling it out under the sun, his very posture strict with both poise and grace.

I’ve never been sucker-punched so hard in the face by the epitomized image of a Male Lead.

“Oh _fuck_ he’s _hot_ ,” fell from my lips without thinking.

Everyone around me audibly choked.

Behind me, Hilde heaved another sigh.

I had no time or clarity of thought for her exasperation. “Hilde, you never told me my husband looked like _that_ ,” I hissed back at her. Is he even allowed to breathe the same mundane air as us mortal men?

“Coralina explained the Duke’s appearance in-depth many times, Your Grace,” Hilde responded. Then, continued a little more bitterly, “Many, _many_ times.”

The procession stopped several yards from us in order to dismount, as it was considered rude to do so close to where I stood. The servants nearby moved forward to help, unpacking some packages tied to the horses as Heero and his men climbed off.

I briefly tore my eyes off of Heero in order to shoot Hilde an accusatory glare. “You think I retained anything about that? She described his eyes as ‘a moonlit path to wilds unknown.’ What the hell was I even supposed to make of that?”

Quatre wore a very complicated expression at that, but in contrast, Meilan looked like she’d prefer to be struck dead where she stood. I don’t know why that gave me as much comfort as it did – probably because of something along the lines of ‘misery loves company’. If I had to suffer the terrible shock of Heero’s awe-inspiringly good looks, then no one was getting out unscathed.

Heero, and by extension also Commander Barton and Master Chang, turned in our direction. The Duke made a swift gesture with his hand and said something quietly to a nearby servant, who quickly darted to where some of the goods were being unloaded. Heero turned back, eyes obviously on me as he began to walk towards us.

“Oh my god, everyone _shut up_ , he’s coming over here!”

“You’re the only one talking, Your Grace.”

I was now too wired to respond to Meilan’s dry comment. It honestly felt like my heart was going to jump right out of my chest, which didn’t seem like a good thing. What the hell did they put in that consommé I had for breakfast, pure caffeine?

“Trowa!” Quatre abruptly called out beside me, every ounce of love and longing condensed into the man’s name. I couldn’t help but jump at the sudden noise – _what the fuck, Quatre?_

“Quatre,” Trowa returned with a warm smile, eyes locked on his husband.

Quatre returned that smile with one of his own angelic ones. “ _Trowa_ …”

“ _Quatre_ …” Trowa never turned his eyes away.

I didn’t have the same issue – I couldn’t look away fast enough, the anxious tension in my body overcome by sheer second-hand embarrassment. They were really looking into each other’s eyes and calling each other’s names; I half-expected them to start running to each other in slow-motion any minute now.

“…Gross,” Meilan complained, although it was hard to tell if this was in reaction to the Quatre-Trowa interaction or at Wufei finally locking eyes with her.

I didn’t want to touch any of what was going on on either side of me with a ten-foot pole, so I affixed my eyes on to Heero desperately. He closed the distance between us with measured steps, his expression neither warm nor wary; it looked like it’d been cut from granite, unflinching and earnest.

I could feel everyone’s eyes on us as Heero finally came to a stop before me.

“Welcome home,” I told him softly with a shallow bow.

Heero _stared_ at me.

_Smile, smile!_

“…I’m home.”

Heero’s voice was velvety warm, even when the words were delivered in an almost militaristic tone. His eyes flitted up-and-down my form, lingering for one long breath on my left hand. I glanced down to see what caught his interest, seeing only my wedding ring – a perfect match to the one he wore on his own left hand, although his had a large white diamond in place of the black diamond on my own.

I looked back at Heero. Did he think other-me had lost or sold it or something?

Heero’s eyes met my own once again. He stood perfectly still, and it made me wonder if I was supposed to hug him. Lady Aurora had only stressed my placement in the yard and the appropriate homecoming gift I should have present during my latest etiquette lessons; aside from the customary “welcome home,” what I was supposed to speak about was up in the air.

Oh, right, the homecoming gifts! “I got you a little something to welcome you back,” I said hurriedly, a flush heating my cheeks unbidden.

I turned around and motioned Hilde forward; she stepped up followed by another maid behind her, both carefully holding red velvet cushions between their hands. Resting atop the cushion Hilde was holding was a white handkerchief, larger than the one I had gifted to Heero months ago and much more elaborate: within all four corners twined the fine embroidered design of ivy, matched in color to the background as if its curling leaves had been imprinted. The Yuy House Crest was embroidered in the dead center of the cloth, about the size of a grown man’s hand, the house shield a familiar deep blue now that I’ve seen the color of Heero’s eyes. Running along the edges of the entire handkerchief was an intricate dark violet lace, the color of which matched my initials etched in one far corner.

Someone made a small wheezing side nearby, but when I glanced in that direction, all I saw was Wufei glaring down at the handkerchief in palpable hostility. Like damn, I knew it wasn’t the greatest, but I’d tried, okay?!

My eyes whipped back to Heero, who had been staring at it with slightly widened eyes. As he should have seen my last shoddy attempt at a handkerchief, I guess he was a little impressed I’d managed to improve this time around. After another moment, he reached one hand out to pick it up, which was when I finally noticed a slight trembling.

Shit! I shouldn’t be surprised; naturally, after such a long ride home, he’d be exhausted! I needed to hurry this along.

“O-One more thing too!” I stammered out, swiftly turning around and grabbing the second present from the other maid’s cushion. I pushed it into Heero’s free hand, the other one still gingerly holding his new handkerchief.

I was surprised by how warm his hand was. It was easy to fall into the thinking of Heero as some book character (or maybe more accurately now, some kind of actor or celebrity) given that blindingly pretty face of his, but the feeling of his calloused fingertips grazing my palm as I handed over the gift sent a shock up my arm and down my spine.

I pulled back my hand and tried to smooth over the jerky movement with a wide smile, but my face felt on fire the entire time. It didn’t help that everyone around us kept silently watching like Heero and I were the latest episode of the hottest and most controversial series drama.

Heero opened his hand to see what was inside: a fist-sized golden brooch, delicately arched wings stretching out from a tightly coiled braid made of twining silver-and-gold. At the time when I had commissioned it, I thought it would be a cute call-back to the Yuy wedding rings.

Looking at the strange expression on Heero’s face, I’m not sure he felt the same way. In fact, he just kept staring at me, one hand holding the handkerchief, the other hand holding the brooch. I almost wanted to put something on top of his head too, just to see if he’d continue doing an admirable job acting like a shelving unit. Did he fall asleep standing up with his eyes open?

Heero blinked, fingers seeming to involuntarily close over both gifts as he blinked at me. “…Thank you,” he finally managed out, a little breathlessly. I kindly did not call him out on his daytime, eyes-open dozing; the poor thing must be exhausted.

“…Duo,” Heero started, stopped, and then stared at me again. “…Husband.”

I smiled at him in an encouraging manner, empathizing with him completely – I’d also experienced those days of too little sleep, my communication skills eroded to only keywords and long pauses. Thank god my finals were never verbal exams. “Yeah, Heero?”

Somewhere in the periphery, Trowa sucked in a harsh breath. Which was weird, but who knew what he and Quatre were doing. I resolutely did not look away from Heero’s searching gaze, because at least looking at his pretty face was less likely to mentally scar me.

“I…” _Come on, ‘Ro, you can do it!_ Your bed is not far once we get this welcome out of the way! “I also… Got you a present.”

I blinked. “Oh, the bird sculpture?” I recalled the thing he mentioned in his letters. I wonder where I should put it…

…sounds like a problem for Hilde.

“No,” Heero replied swiftly, then paused. “Wait, yes?”

I patted him consolingly on the arm. _It’s alright, buddy, we’ve all been there…_ I could practically taste the abomination that was three different energy drinks mixed with coffee that I’d desperately consumed during Finals week on the tip of my tongue even now.

The gesture seemed to short-circuit Heero, as his mouth clamped shut and he froze. He must have fallen asleep again. Nice biceps though, I could feel the muscles under my hand; it was quite obvious that despite the pretty face, he’d firmly planted himself out of the realm of the dainty and delicate dandy.

“Your Grace,” Trowa coughed quietly.

I pulled my hand away as if burned. Not that I’d been doing anything inappropriate, of course; I’d only been giving Heero some encouraging handpats! I only let the touch linger a bit longer because I was appreciating the fine results of Heero’s workout routine. _It was for science!!_

Heero, jolted out of his trance by Trowa’s voice, turned around and gestured for the servant he’d spoken to earlier. The man rushed forward quickly, handing over whatever he’d been carrying that I couldn’t see as Heero’s back blocked it from view.

I stared at Heero’s back in (scientific!!) appreciation. _Nice butt…_

Heero turned back to face me, holding a bouquet of red and white flowers. “This is for you,” he managed out, his facial expression very calm but his everything else stilted. “White carnations. Red tulips. Fresh cut.”

_Are you a receipt, Heero?_

“Th-Thank you,” I said, taking the rather large bouquet from him. Lady Aurora never mentioned I’d be getting a homecoming gift in return. Or is this supposed to be a souvenir?

Suddenly, I was viscerally reminded of my own letters to him: _…All this talk of your spring return had planted the idea in my head of many beautiful flowers well within reach upon your homecoming…_

Did…Did Heero get me flowers _just because_ I complained that the flowers hadn’t bloomed yet in the estate?

 _Holy shit--!_ This guy really is a male lead!!

A hot flush swept over my face, and I knew immediately I must have turned beet red. I was definitely five seconds away from melting into a puddle of goo; I buried my face in the blooms so that I didn’t have to look at anybody.

Heero startled, “Duo—”

“Wufei,” Meilan interjected, suddenly and loudly. “I threw out your hydrangeas!”

“YOU _WHAT--?!”_

I stepped back as Wufei launched into a furious tirade, nearly every word snapped out in what had to be his and Meilan’s native tongue, although Meilan was snipping back just as quickly. It was enough of a distraction that Heero actually stopped and looked away from me, although he kept glancing back like he was just waiting to resume whatever we’d been doing.

“We should all head inside and take a rest,” Quatre suggested in a tone that conveyed this was actually more of an order after Wufei’s rant finally wound down. The blonde extricated himself from Trowa – when had they started hugging?? – and moved between me and Heero, looking at the latter with his non-expression.

“Your Grace,” he started, then glanced at Trowa and Wufei in turn, silently including them. “I apologize for my haste, but there is something I must speak to you about. Immediately.”

Quatre looked back at me, silently letting me know exactly what he meant: time to let the cat out of the bag. It had been discussed thoroughly over the past week, after all, when and how Heero and the others would be told about my ‘amnesia’. They’d never been told anything while away, as Hilde and the others were wary of the security of letters and also didn’t want to cause Heero undue stress, so we had all waited for their return. Now that they’d finally arrived, we had to figure out who was doing what when it came to breaking the news.

Quatre had stepped up, reasoning out that as Heero’s close friend, he should be the one. I figured that was best since Quatre knew him better, and I’d be in the same room anyway. I didn’t really factor in Heero being dead on his feet the entire time, but maybe it wouldn’t be a long conversation.

Now all three men looked alarmed.

“Yes,” I started quickly. “I need to pop these bad boys in a vase anyway!”

Their heads whipped around to stare at me. “ _Bad boys?”_ Wufei echoed dubiously.

“Shut up, you have no room to judge, you _talk_ to your stupid flowers,” Meilan shot out in my defense.

“Woman--!”

Quatre completely ignored them, turning my way and smiling at me. _Very_ brightly.

I squinted a bit.

…Yes, there was definitely a thin layer of threat in that smile. I bet if he’d eaten some peanuts earlier, he wouldn’t be nearly as cranky now.

Hilde politely took the bouquet from me, muttering something about finding that vase and not exactly fleeing but definitely leaving faster than she usually would. I eyed her back in envy, wishing I could follow her and be definitively not here.

I turned back around; Heero was still staring at me.

“…Let’s have some coffee, shall we?”

* * *

The Duke’s study was similar to my own, if slightly bigger and oriented more towards battle. Maps of the continent replaced where the Sanc Kingdom map hung in my own study, and the portrait in Heero’s looked to be of his late father, the former Duke Odin Lowe Yuy. The increase in space allowed a larger lounge area, consisting of a large coffee table with two couches and two armchairs around it, along with a six-person meeting table that had been left empty for this past year.

Heero had technically led the way in, although we passed through the doorway arm-in-arm as manners dictated he should escort me. It took a minute to get moving after he’d offered me his arm though, Heero having frozen as I accepted his offer. Luckily the servants worked fast, and by the time we’d arrived in the study and Heero stopped bluescreening, coffee was served. Hopefully that would wake him up.

No one quite knew what level of professionalism this conversation needed, as only half of us actually knew what it was about and the other half was still staring at me like they were waiting for me to announce I’d irrevocably devastated the Yuy province. I took a seat on one of the lounge sofas, Meilan rushing to sit beside me and glower at both her husband _and_ mine; Quatre took one of the armchairs, conveniently the one closest to me, as if it wasn’t obvious enough that I was being cushioned in preparation for this talk.

In my humble opinion, _Heero_ was the one who needed the cushioning.

Trowa stood awkwardly next to where Quatre sat, on the side furthest from me. Wufei shot Meilan an exasperated look but also refused to sit, loitering in the space between the lounge area and Heero’s desk. Heero glanced at his desk, then at the extra armchair, then just gave up and stood near Wufei.

“I assume this meeting is about His Grace the Duchess,” Wufei started, after a good minute or so of everyone sipping their coffee and avoiding speaking.

Meilan scowled. “Why do you immediately assume it’s about the Duchess?!”

Even I stared at her for that. “But Meilan, it _is_ about me…” I can’t believe she was _even more_ confrontational with Wufei _present!_

“Is everything alright?” That was Heero, who was looking at me with still no expression. His tone also sounded a bit clipped, and I wondered if that was because of the lack of sleep or just his personality. I guess it made sense that the male leading be the brooding type.

Quatre looked to me, silently asking permission to be the one to start. I nodded – better him than me. Knowing myself, I’d probably slip and say something stupid again.

“Do you remember the report we received about the fire in the greenhouse?” Quatre asked, turning back to Heero. It was clear from his tone that he already knew the answer, but he waited for Heero to nod anyway. “Howard mentioned that though His Grace the Duchess had no permanent injuries, there were some temporary conditions.”

I snorted. _Temporary, indeed…_

Heero seemed to subconsciously move a step closer. “Am I to assume that whatever these conditions are, they are no longer considered temporary?” His dark gaze fell on me once more in assessment, as if he could try and discern these changes with nothing but a look. His eyes stopped on my pearl choker and stayed there.

“Yes,” Quatre replied. “At this point, we can assume they are permanent...”

Wufei opened his mouth, clearly about to ask for more information – but honestly, this was taking too damn long.

“I have amnesia,” I interjected, soundly cutting off Wufei. Why was Quatre beating around the bush? I never would have expected this angelic little blonde to enjoy the drama of the moment so much.

Wufei stopped, as did both Heero and Trowa. My statement cued another round of stares which I didn’t get to wallow in because then Quatre turned to me and gave me a wounded look, like he couldn’t believe I’d just taken the wind out of his sails.

“You were taking too long,” I told him defensively. “You’ve got to rip it off quickly, like a Band-Aid.”

Meilan’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “What’s a band-aid?”

“Like a bandage but smaller and easier to use,” I replied, mentally jotting down another thing I’d have to hurriedly invent and convince everyone I’d learned about from a friend of a friend. “Anyway—”

Meilan looked horrified. “Why would you rip off a bandage?!”

“No, it’s okay, it’s supposed to be ripped off—”

“Will that not cause the injury to worsen?!”

“The injury should have already healed!”

“So why are you wearing a bandage then?!”

“No, it’s not for like big injuries, it’s for things like paper cuts!”

“Why aRE YOU WEARING A BANDAGE FOR A PAPER CUT?!”

“LET ME LIVE MY LIFE, MEILAN!!”

“Your Grace, Lady Meilan,” Quatre interrupted, then stopped because there was no polite way to tell us to shut up.

I ignored the guilt that exasperated look on Quatre’s face invoked. I wasn’t falling for his guilt trips again!

“What do you mean,” Wufei finally spoke, the words practically hissed out. “He has _amnesia?!”_

Meilan scoffed, “Do you not know what the word ‘amnesia’ means, Wufei?”

Bold words from the girl that demanded I _must_ know something after _she’d_ learned about it.

“Woman—”

“Essentially it means I forgot, uh, everything,” I hurriedly explained. I didn’t have to worry too much about trying to convince these three I had genuine amnesia; Quatre was the litmus test for them, after all. As long as Quatre was convinced, he’d convince the rest of them. “After I’d first woken up after the fire, I didn’t remember anything but my name. Some bits and pieces came back to me a couple of weeks later – I knew I was married to Heero, and I remembered a bit about what I…did… But that was it. I had to re-learn everything else.”

“What came back?”

The voice was surprising – I think this was the first time Trowa actually addressed me directly. I blinked at him. “What?”

“Your Grace mentioned ‘some bits and pieces came back’ – what were they?” the tall brunet clarified.

I opened my mouth to reply, ready to essentially give the same spiel I’d given to Quatre, but said blonde interrupted me and took over. “His Grace recalled vague points about his conduct, such as his mismanagement of the Yuy estate and his extramarital affairs,” he explained. “The finer details were provided by Miss Hilde and Howard, or through other avenues as needed.”

“He made an itemized list and then fixed each one,” Meilan put in. “He’s also the one that found the iron ore mine near Aoba-ku, discovered the corruption in Ishigaki, and helped put an end to the human trafficking ring here in the provincial capital—”

I shoved her coffee cup at her, cheeks flaming. With the way Meilan phrased it, she made it sound like I was some kind of hero when really I was just tripping into trouble _(on purpose!)_ and getting my ass saved by the others. _It was so embarrassing!!_

“It was nothing! I just happened to have some good luck, and really, the knights and Meilan did all the work in Aoba-ku and Ishigaki, and Quatre handled the trafficking ring here! I just happened to be in the right place at the right time is all!”

“You developed the ‘steam engine’,” Meilan pointed out acerbically.

I glared at her. “Do you want only mont blanc for the next month at our tea parties? Is that it?” I whispered to her threateningly.

“Stop using cakes to threaten me!”

“I will when it stops working!”

Wufei’s eyes had snapped over to his wife. “Woman, what the hell were you doing in Ishigaki?”

“Helping the weak, as Nataku willed!” Meilan proclaimed.

“You were supposed to stay at home!”

She scoffed, “Ishigaki is within the Yuy province, which means it’s part of our home.”

“Why would you follow along with one of the Duchess’s whims like that?!”

I frowned. _Whims?_ Getting rid of that corrupt governor was a _necessity,_ not a whim!

Meilan matched my expression, unhappy gaze on Wufei. “The corruption in Ishigaki compelled action,” she corrected the man. “His Grace the Duchess learned the same thing from traders in town as I did, but we made independent decisions to do something about it - and only met by chance in Ishigaki.”

Wufei turned a rudely disbelieving look on me. “And why did you decide to go down there _yourself,_ Your Grace?”

“…It seemed like something a Duchess should do,” I told him. I had no idea why he was so angry about this, but I guess he was just worried over Meilan. Or something, who knew with those two. I glanced over at Quatre, hoping for some help – but the blonde wasn’t even looking our direction, shrewd eyes instead turned in Heero’s direction.

I followed Quatre’s gaze. Come to think of it, Heero had been oddly quiet for a while now; I really hoped he didn’t fall asleep again. Heero looked – well, he didn’t look sleepy, but he certainly didn’t seem to be hearing anything the rest of us had been saying.

Wufei didn’t seem to have even noticed, voice coming out snappish and sarcastic. “And what exactly did the Duchess hope to accomplish that our knights couldn’t—”

_“Enough.”_

Wufei’s mouth snapped closed. I couldn’t help but stiffen at the tone; it had been so authoritative and on edge, as if Heero’s perfectly-maintained control was the only thing keeping him from violence. Immediately the others straightened into military stances, instinctively soldiers at the sound of Heero’s command.

Heero didn’t acknowledge them. He moved silently towards where we sat, ignoring the others and eyes locked somewhere just past my shoulders. It was only when he came to a stop before me did he turn his gaze to match my wide eyes, offering me a hand.

After a moment, I took it and stood. His hand gently closed around mine as he bowed his head. “I apologize for all the harm you suffered in my absence, Duchess,” he said lowly. “My intention has always been to keep you safe and healthy. I am so sorry I have not been able to do either.”

I paled. “Heero, no—That’s not—” _That’s not your fault!_ Other-me really didn’t deserve that kind of devotion! The words were trapped in my throat though, and remained there when I glimpsed Quatre surreptitiously shaking his head behind Heero. Clearly Heero wasn't up to hearing my reasoning at the moment.

“I am sorry to ask you this after you’ve kindly provided us a warm welcome as well,” Heero continued. “But I’d like a moment to speak with my advisors. If you have something else to take care of in the meanwhile, I would be honored to escort you to the dinner feast later tonight.”

A dismissal, then. I understood why though – Heero wanted a moment to chat alone with his besties about this new issue I’d become, and he couldn’t feel comfortable doing so if I was in the room gawking at him. I tried to smile at him in understanding, but I think it came out a bit wan as his fingers tightened around mine and then relaxed, a seemingly subconscious gesture.

“Uh, yeah, of course,” I agreed. “I’ll just go and, um, make sure Morris isn’t overdoing it on the pickled meat again.”

Heero released my hand, nodding once with a vaguely strained expression on his face. He turned searing eyes on Meilan. “Lady Meilan, if you wouldn’t mind keeping the Duchess company?”

It was obviously not a request. This was clearly a boys-only event – ladies and dandies excluded. Meilan didn’t argue though, instead looping her arm through mine and leading me out of the room with quick steps.

I chanced a look back as we passed through the doors. Heero was watching us leave – no, he was watching _me,_ eyes once more locked on my neck.

The door closed behind us, and we were off.

* * *

**A/N** : Duo initially wasn’t going to say (out loud) _“he’s hot”_ but by popular demand, I decided he could have some public embarrassment. As a treat.Also, Wufei at some point: _my wife is a bitch and I love her so much_

Heero's description of _"...any notion of fragility was shattered by the look in those Prussian blue eyes, which almost seemed to have a wild sort of sparkle to them..."_ was a nod to his description in a magazine, so I don't want to hear one complaint about it. It was too good a chance to pass up.

_Flower meanings:_

\--Ivy: friendship (what Duo was going for); fidelity, marriage (what Lady Aurora did not say but heavily implied)

\--White carnations: innocence, pure love

\--Red tulips: passion, love

_Please be kind and_ **_drop a comment and kudos!_ :)**


	20. Arc II, Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone gets painful secondhand embarrassment from the Heero&Duo Show.

**A/N** : Love the Heero chapter, because every few paragraphs or so, he just starts blue-screening LOL

* * *

**Chapter 20**

* * *

The door shut on distancing footsteps, and I allowed myself a moment’s respite to gather my thoughts and tamper down on my instinctive reactions. Even the familiar sight and smell of home wasn’t quite enough to comfort me, especially when I could just barely discern Duo’s voice talking rapidly to Meilan as they moved further and further away.

It was only when it became totally quiet that I turned around, ignoring both Trowa and Wufei – instead looking to Quatre. I could feel the pinched quality to my expression and knew that the blonde had already long discerned my current emotional state.

“Explain,” I ordered him with careful control.

Quatre dipped his head briefly, understanding the total breadth of the question I’d condensed into that one word. “Following the incident of the greenhouse fire, the Duchess awoke with absolutely no memory except for his name. Howard reported that he also appeared to be suffering from— dreams, or something like it. He’d asked questions about himself and his place here, as befitting someone waking up with amnesia, but he’d asked other things that didn’t quite make sense... about places they’d never heard of, about things that didn’t exist.”

Quatre paused, eyes calculative. “He asked about magic.”

I stiffened.

“Of what nature?” Trowa asked, sinewy form still relaxed despite the sudden tension in the air.

Quatre shook himself out of his thoughts. “Nothing specific. He questioned its existence, and Miss Hilde assured him that it did not exist.”

At least one person in this estate was doing their job.

“After some of his memories came back, some of the weirder questions stopped. From what Miss Hilde stated, the Duchess remembered some key pieces of information – things like being married to His Grace the Duke, being the youngest child of the Maxwell ducal family, some of his behavior regarding the servants and his extramarital affairs.” Quatre kindly didn’t acknowledge me tensing again at the reminder of Duo’s more hurtful antics. “However, it was the details that escaped him; he knew he had cheated on the Duke, but he didn’t know with who.”

Wufei scowled. “I fail to see how his amnesia explains the content of the letters we’ve been receiving,” he pointed out.

Quatre nodded. “To be frank, it’s… difficult to understand,” he mused. “At first, I also believed His Grace the Duchess had been faking amnesia in order to avoid the repercussions of his previous behavior after having a change of heart. It isn’t uncommon that after a near-death experience, the Duchess would have thought better of his previous actions and wanted to take the proper recourse. He may have been too prideful to be willing to apologize for what he’d done, but he was still trying to fix the damage.”

That did make the most sense, even if the very idea bothered me. I’d done my best to limit the amount of damage Duo could do, very well aware of what his lashing out meant; it’d taken a full season after the wedding before we’d finally found an attendant who didn’t cringe away from Duo at his most acidic, and despite the animosity from both sides, Hilde had never mentioned wanting to leave and Duo had never tried to fire her.

The idea that Duo had a change of heart and felt compelled to fix the entire province out of sense of guilt didn’t sit right. I’d never married him with the idea that he would give his heart and soul to the people of the Yuy duchy.

We were, after all, not a love match.

“So why did you discard the idea?” Trowa prompted.

Quatre winced. “Because of the list,” he answered, looking exasperated by some private memory.

“The one Meilan mentioned?” Wufei asked. For all that they argued, he always took his wife’s words at face-value, his trust in her as deep as it was in me.

Quatre nodded. “It was an itemized list of his wrongful behavior from before the greenhouse fire, covering everything from mismanagement to adultery to not appreciating my accounting skills,” he sighed, aggrieved tone clearly implying how ridiculous he found the latter point. “Despite having no memory of the transgressions, he had no intention of absolving himself – he intended to take responsibility.”

Trowa arched an eyebrow, the ‘how?’ obvious.

“He was going to present it to the Duke and ask to be banished to a territory of the Duke’s choosing.”

The words snapped something in me that I only just realized was being tenuously held at bay. “And who gave the Duchess the idea that _banishment_ was a fitting punishment,” I hissed. As if I’d ever intended to punish Duo for any of this, after locking him into a marriage he’d so clearly despised!

“It seemed to be the Duchess’s own idea,” Quatre refuted me calmly. “He’d presented his list to a small number of servants, and everyone was very much aghast.”

Wufei’s scowl deepened. “And where is this list now?”

“Oh, I burned it.”

Wufei stared at him, taken-aback by the surprisingly casual tone. Trowa turned away for a moment, shoulders shaking.

“It didn’t seem necessary to keep it,” the blonde continued, tilting an apologetic look our way that nevertheless didn’t seem that apologetic. “I’d run through every point on the list and of the small number that the Duchess hadn’t already fixed or made proper reparations for, as long as he kept his current attitude, there was no point in discussing them further.”

“So you burned it.”

“Yes.”

Trowa’s shoulders shook harder.

While this answered some of the obvious changes regarding Duo’s relationship with just about everyone in the estate now, it didn’t quite satisfy what I was most concerned with.

Duo was, objectively, devastatingly beautiful. Whether he adorned himself in peasant clothing or the most eye-wateringly atrocious garments ever threaded, it was impossible to ignore the delicately-sculpted heart-shaped face, the cuttingly expressive violet eyes, the supple form that moved with an easy grace. He had unblemished skin as long as I’d known him; sometimes in the summer, a light dusting of freckles settled over his nose and cheeks as if kissed by the sunlight during his daytime garden walks, and even in the harshest winter his hair swept sleek and cozy against his back. There was nothing about Duo that was visually unappealing.

So why were there _scars_ across his neck?

I hadn’t seen them at first; it had been difficult to turn my eyes away from Duo’s excited face when I first arrived, and even moreso when a pink flush settled across his cheeks as he hugged the flowers I’d gifted him close. Why would I ever look away from such an expression, the first time I’d ever seen warmth in Duo’s eyes instead of scorn when he looked at me?

But then Quatre had alluded to Duo’s suffering of a serious condition, and only then did I tear my eyes away from a gaze that no longer hated me and found scars on a neck that should never have borne them.

_‘Keep him safe,’_ Duke Maxwell had told me when I’d been given Duo’s hand in marriage. A common instruction given to any groom by their in-law, but one I knew that was more a threat than a platitude when it came from this particular man.

Now there was evidence right on Duo’s body that I could not do even that.

“His neck,” I stated, words clipped and clear.

Quatre stood abruptly, bowing as low as I’d ever allowed one of my closest friends to do and then some. “I am at fault for the scar across his neck and the two on his arm, Your Grace,” he explained.

“The two on his _arm?”_ I echoed coldly. Given Duo’s attire, his arms had been completely covered so I hadn’t even seen them. However… “And there are _two_ scars on his neck.”

“The scar across the front of his throat is from the altercation with the human trafficking ring discovered here in the provincial capital,” Quatre explained. “His Grace was captured by the traffickers and held at knifepoint until he threw himself and his captor backwards into a fireplace. The knife slipped, and though the injury was not severe, it did scar.”

“What do you mean he _threw_ _himself into a fireplace?”_ Wufei screeched.

Quatre’s expression hinted at absolutely nothing, a tell in and of itself. “I believe he didn’t see a way out without us negotiating for his release, so he decided to risk his life to ensure that the man couldn’t get away.”

Duo threw himself into fire just to ensure some filth faced the proper punishment? Just for putting Duo at risk like that, I would have hunted the man down; there was no need for Duo to take that extra step.

“What of the other scars?” I asked.

Quatre kept his head bent low. “The two on his arm are from the same traffickers. Prior to our arrival at their headquarters, the Duchess was tortured. He was burned twice on the arm with fireplace tongs.”

I felt absolutely sickened by the words as they trickled into my ears. The gutting feel of them was soon replaced by a stronger emotion: _fury_. That Duo had been caught in the middle of this—in _danger_ —and then tortured.

“Is this why you requested the use of Sandrock?”

Trowa’s question cut through both my furious ruminations and Wufei’s blatant disbelief. Quatre nodded curtly in response.

“You swore to the Duke we’d never use them in front of the Duchess,” Wufei stated coolly, at odds with the heat in his gaze. “Why go so far?”

_‘He should never know what you’re actually capable of,’_ I had been told, a warning and a regret rolled into one. I’d made them each promise that they would keep this secret with me after my marriage, that unless circumstances were impossible and there was no other way, this secret would remain and the Duchess (and the kingdom at large) would be none the wiser.

“I…did not want to subject the Duchess to such an experience again,” Quatre admitted softly, turning his stare on me and willing me to understand. “Those are not the only scars, Your Grace. There are so many more instances where the Duchess’s life has been at risk, both before and after my return.”

The words thundered and cut. Not just the bald statement of fact, but also the very implication: Duo was in danger and had already been hurt while none of us had been present.

“Gather the guards, Sally, and Hilde,” I told them curtly.

Someone needed to answer for this; those who had been with Duo throughout the past year was a good place to start.

* * *

The sight of their prostrating forms had never sat well with me. I’d spent most of my childhood in a modest home, alone save for my mother. Even after her death and my father coming to take me back to the Yuy duchy, I was still alone; the nobles considered me dirty because of my mother’s blood, and the servants considered me a noble because of my father’s.

Sally, the only one who hadn’t lowered herself to the floor in repentance, was still steeped in a low bow. She’d done her job, after all, and knew she wasn’t here to offer apologies for Duo’s current state. Despite the scarring, Duo had still recovered in her hands.

“The Duchess’s injuries?”

As my confidantes always could, Sally answered the breadth of question despite how curt it had been. “Mild damage to the throat from smoke inhalation due to the greenhouse fire, now fully healed. A jagged cut along the side of his throat after a bandit managed to knick him – it’s healed but left a scar. Another scar on his right arm from when one of the embezzlers of the Bluefield orphanage attacked His Grace with a hatchet; he also sustained a sprained ankle, although that has long healed with no complications. Two burn scars on his right arm after he was held down and tortured, and another scar across his windpipe after His Grace attempted to escape being held hostage – by throwing both himself and his captor in the fireplace.”

Seven noted injuries that resulted in nearly as many scars. Duo had attempted to cover it with pretty garments and beautiful jewelry, but such permanent reminders would always be etched on his skin. Duo had always prided himself on his good looks and not looked kindly on the battle scars that littered myself and the other soldiers of the duchy; now his own scars were crawling up in number, all because he’d married me.

“Why _exactly,”_ I stated, words cold and clipped. “Has the Duchess of the Yuy family sustained such serious injuries _while in his own province?”_

The knights and Hilde offered no defense or pleas; I would haven’t heard it even if they did.

Two scars across his neck – _that_ was how close Duo had come to being killed. He’d been abducted and tortured while in our own capital; he'd nearly died in the greenhouse I'd built for him as a wedding gift. That Duo couldn't even be safe in his own home was galling. “The fault must fall on me – I failed to train you all enough to ensure my own husband’s safety. Or maybe you found it too difficult to keep the Duchess safe in my absence?”

“The fault is ours, Your Grace,” they intoned in perfect unison. Not one dared to lift their eyes, heads remaining bowed in contrition. It was clear to me, at the very least, that they were taking my anger seriously – although why they waited until I came back to take Duo’s safety seriously only further incensed me.

I was well aware that guarding Duo was not a task my knights ever enjoyed. Between the Duchess’s overt disdain for anything related to me and his infamously acidic tongue, I had to run stringent checks to ensure that the ones left in charge of his safety would withstand his taunts with minimal reaction to them. It was for that reason I was surprised Lyle was even part of this ‘Duchess Guard’; while a gifted swordsman, Lyle was one of the more sensitive knights who wouldn’t be able to deal with Duo’s vitriol maturely.

Were they drawing straws again when it came to guard duty? I grit my teeth, eyes on Mikhail – the leader of the Duchess Guard – and was a moment away from snapping out some demand before Quatre interrupted me by stepping up to my side.

“They took their duty seriously, Your Grace,” Quatre said in their defense. “They’ve trained very hard this past year to meet the demands of the job. If Your Grace believes they require more, that is well within your right – however, I would advise against reassignment. There is no one better than them to guard the Duchess.”

I glared at Quatre full-force, mildly annoyed that it never seemed to affect the blonde. “You yourself admitted that the Duchess has been put in danger numerous times under their supposed guard.”

“Unexpected and perilous circumstances,” Quatre replied readily. “Training has been revised and increased every time. Your Grace – _there is no one better_ , unless you plan to have Trowa and Wufei assigned as His Grace the Duchess’s personal guard.”

Quatre knew damn well that I could not, given their positions. That didn’t make me any more agreeable however; I scowled, turning back to the kneeling guards. I could reassign some of the knights I’d brought to battle with me. Perhaps this year back home had made Mikhail and the others more lax, it was the only reason I could think of for why Duo kept getting injured that wasn’t outright treason – an impossibility, if Quatre was speaking on their behalf.

“And the Duchess is fond of them,” Quatre continued. “If you suddenly transfer all of those he trusts and has grown close to, especially in light of his current vulnerability, you only risk isolating him.”

Quatre paused, staring at me. “ _Again_ ,” he reminded me harshly.

I stilled, the blonde’s words heavy in my mind. I remembered Duo’s face when I first arrived – nervous, in awe, warm – and then remembered him just a year ago, when he refused to even look at me. Duo didn’t hate me right now, but only because he couldn’t remember hating me in the first place; at the moment, he was more vulnerable than he has ever been.

“Simon’s squad will be added to the Duchess Guard,” I decided. Simon had been one of the knights who’d led some of the cavalry; his skills matched Mikhail’s prior to our leaving the duchy, and had only grown in our battles with the barbarians. “He will be de facto leader until I have ascertained who shall remain in the Guard.”

I didn’t need to look at his face to see that Quatre did not agree with my orders, but he said nothing.

I turned away from them. “You’re all dismissed. Prepare for the homecoming feast, as per the Duchess’s command,” I told them.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

* * *

I’d only had a short rest after the meeting, followed by a shorter meeting with Howard just to check there was no emergency need to see to that he’d put off telling me about until I was home (there wasn’t), and then the last couple of hours were spent washing up and getting ready for the dinner.

Homecoming feasts were not formal things, at least not if it was just us; I’d usually wear either my formal officer uniform or whatever clothes I had that was suitable for company. As it was usually just me and my soldiers, it would be too uncomfortable if I stood on such rigid formality.

So when the servants helping me get ready showed me the outfit I would be wearing tonight, I couldn’t help the confusion. “Why?” I asked, staring at it.

Tsubasa, my chamberlain, looked offended I’d even asked. “You’re escorting the Duchess this time, Your Grace,” he told me primly. “Do you not wish to look your best?”

…I don’t remember Tsubasa being this passive-aggressive before I’d left…

The outfit was a new addition to my wardrobe, as I certainly didn’t recognize it. The top was a dark blue uniform jacket that fell just past my hips, embellished with thick, rigid silver trim along the collar, shoulders, and sleeve cuffs. Shining silver buttons fastened it closed over a plain white undershirt, matching dark blue pants which would apparently be paired with tall, dark leather boots. This was matched by the leather belt wrapped around the middle, the buckle a heavy silver. A soft, dark blue half-cape was draped over the left shoulder, trimmed in that same silver lining.

Homecoming feasts were not uncommon for me; as the Sanc Kingdom’s premier fighting force, I often had to report to various posts to ensure everything was in place in our ongoing battle against Oz and Romefeller. It’s been quiet for the past few years, so when I was ordered to leave my home, it was to report to the Capital or to squash some skirmishes in the barbarian territories.

Once I returned home, Howard and the others often set about preparing the feast to welcome us back. It was hardly an extravagant affair; it was enough food and drink to content myself and my closest group of men, although I knew the celebrations outside of ours were more raucous. After my marriage, Duo had never made an appearance; in fact, he usually wasn’t even there to greet me at our return unless Hilde managed to convince him.

So the fact that Duo was not only hosting this, but also agreed to attend _with_ me…

I knew it was just because he couldn’t remember hating me. It wasn’t fair to see this Duo as _not_ Duo, or a new Duo; even without his memories, he was still my husband and the beloved son of Duke Maxwell. Just because he could not remember this didn’t make him a different person. I wonder how much Howard and the others spoke positively of me, that a Duo with no memories actually looked happy to see me.

I remembered his blushing face as I handed him the bouquet.

Getting ready didn’t usually take me very long, but tonight Tsubasa seemed intent on making sure I looked suitable to escort the Duchess. I was privately relieved for the help; as Tsubasa had remained behind in the estate, he would understand Duo’s change in tastes the best. (He often claimed fashion was always changing, something I – and the others – hardly understood.) As long as I didn’t look a mess for the first time Duo allowed me to escort him somewhere, I would be pleased with the result.

“I should have used conditioner…” Tsubasa muttered under his breath, standing behind me holding two hairbrushes and glaring mulishly at my hair.

…what’s conditioner?

“How long are you going to preen in front of the mirror?”

I scowled, refusing to turn and acknowledge Trowa’s remark. Tsubasa jumped at my Commander’s voice – a natural reaction, given that Trowa had slipped in through the damn window again. He was wearing his usual outfit for dinner feasts, an understated dark green tunic over clean-pressed light brown slacks, tucked into tall soft leather booths.

“I’m trying to make sure His Grace _can_ preen in front of the mirror,” Tsubasa claimed waspishly, setting the brushes back down and picking up a jar of hair oil. “Melissa and the others will kill me if I let His Grace escort the Duchess looking like he’d just stepped off the training field!”

Was my hair that bad?

Trowa rolled his eyes behind the chamberlain’s back, but wisely didn’t respond as Tsubasa set in on my hair. I caught a few mumbles here and there (“… _should trim it a bit, rogueish looks are only charming while traveling_ …”) but the hair oil did the trick, taming my unruly tresses back into something that suited Tsubasa’s more regal tastes.

I stood, taking a look at myself in the mirror as Tsubasa’s eyes scanned me from head to toe. After a moment, he gave a short nod, satisfied with his work. “His Grace the Duchess should be ready within the hour,” he told me, washing his hands in a water basin. “I’ll send notice once he’s ready.”

I nodded distractedly, still looking myself over. Tsubasa excused himself, giving Trowa’s hair only a cursory disgruntled look – he had some kind of personal vendetta against Trowa’s bangs that appeared to have stayed despite the year-long absence.

Only after the door closed and we were finally left alone did Trowa give me a vaguely judgmental look. I suppose I should just be grateful that he and Wufei kept their more discourteous expressions away from the eyes of the other staff.

“I’m not going to preen,” I assured him dryly.

Trowa only snorted.

* * *

True to his word, Tsubasa sent notice as soon as Duo was finished getting ready. The sun was close to the horizon by the time I was walking the corridor to the Duchess’s personal chambers, Trowa walking with me as Quatre was apparently waiting with Duo. Wufei and Meilan should already be down in the Great Hall given their absence, so I only concerned myself with trying to pull my facial expression into something that wasn’t too cold nor too eager.

It was just as we turned into the corridor that held Duo’s rooms that I hesitated briefly, shooting Trowa a glance that I hoped conveyed my need to know what my face looked like at that moment. He met my glance with one bored green eye, head slightly tilted in thought.

“…You look like you’re about to hurl,” Trowa observed callously.

I glowered at him silently. I should have made him wait at the hall with Wufei.

Asahi was stationed outside of Duo’s door as we approached, and as soon as he caught sight of us, he knocked on the door to alert them of our arrival. In only a moment, the doors swung open – Quatre was out first, greeting us with a soft smile before moving to Trowa’s side so Duo could step out next.

Seeing Duo often felt like being struck by lightning; it didn’t matter if his eyes glowed with contempt, if his face was turned away like he’d seen something unpleasant, or even if he looked distracted by something and didn’t notice me right away – he looked almost viciously beautiful. It was true a year ago, it was true earlier today – and it was just as true right now.

They’d released his chestnut-colored locks from the gilded bun of the welcoming party, letting half of it flow freely down his back and over his slim shoulders in soft waves. The upper half was pulled into a thick braid, interwoven with a decadent silver hairpiece inlaid with a scattering of amethyst and diamond stones, tendrils curtaining up towards the back of his ears where they were then braided into the smaller braids that crossed over the crown of his head.

His earlier dress had been changed to one more suitable for the dinner feast: a thick, dark blue dress that hung snug on his shoulders, exposing once more the slender slopes of his collarbone. His nape and the scars that decorated his throat were hidden once more behind a subdued piece of jewelry that only seemed to bring attention to his slender neck. Long sleeves clung to the full breadth of his lean arms, tightened at his wrists by silver circlets. A thick, silver-brocaded belt cinched at his thin waist, the rest of the dress billowing out to cover everything below aside from the silver heels on his feet.

It took several moments for me to realize – we matched. Dark blue and silver, simple and straight-forward patterns in the style I favored; something Duo had never worn before.

_We matched._

Duo smiled at me, and it felt like getting struck by lightning all over again. “You look so pretty,” he told me, then froze in shock. His eyes had widened, white all around those vivacious violet irises, clearly surprised by the words that came out of his own mouth.

But not nearly as surprised as me, and I felt my facial expression twitch into something more indifferent to cover my confusion. “…You’re beautiful,” I told him, hoping that I was saying the right thing, but honestly – simple words like “beautiful” or “pretty” just could not do Duo justice.

“Not as beautiful as you!” Duo rushed out vehemently.

_???_ Is he competing for the final compliment? What is this?

“You…” I struggled, keeping the more verbose compliments at bay; Duo had never appreciated them before, so this was uncharted territory for me. To be safe, perhaps I should stick to the compliments I’d often heard directed at the dandies at the Capital. “You’re very…thin.”

Duo stared at me, smile dropping from his face and looking – horrified?

“But I’ve been working out!” he cried, turning a betrayed look on _Quatre_ of all people.

_Working out?_ What–?

“Your physique is perfectly fine, Your Grace,” Quatre assured him calmly.

Duo’s betrayed look never wavered. “Tell it to me straight, Quat – I look like a stick!” He pointed an outraged finger at the blonde. “I look like a twig that you could easily snap in half with a well-timed breeze!”

“You’re a very beautiful stick, Your Grace,” Asahi piped in supportively.

I would have glared at him for the unwanted comment, but Duo pulled out a small white pouch from his belt and threw it right at Asahi’s face without even looking in his direction. It smacked him square in the nose and fell to the floor, peanuts spilling out across the stones.

“Why are you _still_ carrying around peanuts?” Quatre demanded in an aggrieved tone. “We’re going to dinner!”

_????_ Has Duo always carried around snacks?

Duo _pouted_ , “Specifically so that I can throw things at Asahi when he says something rude.”

Now I glared at Asahi. How often were his guards saying rude things that Duo felt compelled to throw nuts at them? Maybe I should have just dismissed the entire lot of them and had Simon’s squad take over the Duchess Guard completely—

An arm forcibly interlocked with mine, pulling my attention away and back to Duo. I couldn’t help but tense, still unused to this – a Duo that willingly touched me, that responded to me. He absently patted my arm with his free hand, murmuring something about _“—be nice to Asahi, or else Hilde really will make him disappear and I need someone to take the blame for my next market tour…”_ but I couldn’t really dwell on his words because he was so warm, pressed right up against my side.

“You alright, Heero?” he asked after I hadn't moved or responded (or possibly breathed) for a length of time, looking up at me. I abruptly realized everyone was waiting for us to start heading in the direction of the great hall, and that Duo had snuggled on to my arm in a silent cue to begin the escort. He was frowning at me now, but before I could mutter an apology for wasting time, he peered closer into my face, fingers skimming the underside of my jaw as if trying to adjust the angle.

“Did you not get a chance to rest?” he asked me in concern, and the expression was so new to me when worn on Duo’s face that it felt as if my mind had stuttered, and all I could do was stare helplessly into worried violet.

“Oh my god, we’re never going to leave this hallway,” Trowa muttered under his breath.

Quatre, my only true friend, elbowed his partner in the side. “Your Grace,” he began, and it took me a moment to realize he was addressing Duo, not me. “Just pull the Duke along. He’ll be fine.”

Clearly _Wufei_ was my only friend here.

We did eventually make it to the great hall, the splendor of the decorations catching me by surprise; while it was true that this expedition had been one of the longest I’d been on, I still had not been expecting much of the homecoming. But they’d hung decadent tapestry all along the ceiling and walls, the tables overflowing with such an assortment of food and drinks that already some of the knights were salivating at the very smell of it.

The feast itself was its own event: dishes I was familiar with were among those offered, but so were dishes that clearly came from more Lagrangian origins. There were meats and seasonings I clearly recognized having come from Wufei’s hometown, along with some other fare that Trowa or myself were known to favor.

There were new foods too, dishes I couldn’t recognize the origin of that Duo, seated beside me, excitedly explained as he absently stacked my plate with both my favorites and some of these new goods. “And this is a burger,” he said, placing what looked to be some kind of sandwich before me, along with a helping of thin-cut potatoes and, inexplicably, Wufei’s favorite vegetable stir-fry.

Meilan, seated beside Duo, was doing much the same for Wufei – except instead of explaining anything, she was piling food on his plate with scathing threats. Trowa, seated beside me and next to Quatre, was silently eating a stew that Cathy had made when they’d both lived in the barbarian territories; Quatre himself was gracefully nibbling at some flatbread, although I’d catch an occasional amused glance in my direction.

“Burger?” I echoed blankly.

“His Grace the Duchess invented it,” Meilan told me, breaking off mid-threat to Wufei.

Duo made a noncommittal noise. “Technically, Morris invented it,” _When did Duo learn the name of the cook?_ “I just told him about the general idea.”

“The general idea?” I echoed again.

“I heard about it from a friend-of-a-friend.”

Hilde let out a pained sigh behind us for no reason I could understand.

The feast wound down to dessert and drinks; as was our usual, beer and wine were served, although there was now the new addition of Duo’s famous whiskey. I vividly recalled the first taste I had of it from the care package Duo had sent; the wooden scent and warm burn reminding me of the Duo I saw now more than the image of him I had carried in my mind when I’d left a year ago.

“Oh, this is bourbon!” Duo said, pouring a glass for me with a wide grin. “Granny Meg finally nailed down the distillation process. Heero, you’ve got to try it!”

He shoved the cup into my hand, which I mechanically lifted to my lips to drink. It burned the entire way down, the taste lingering afterwards so much stronger than the red wine I had been drinking earlier. I didn’t let it show on my face, which was good, because Duo was watching me with avid eyes.

“It’s good,” I stated after it felt like I could speak without choking.

Duo beamed at me, and I couldn’t really think about anything else except the way his smile softened the look in his eyes. “Right, right? I knew you’d have better taste than Quatre!”

“Some of us like our taste buds,” Quatre muttered from the right.

Duo scoffed at him, pouring me another glass of bourbon(???) and oblivious to the way Trowa tensed at his dismissal of the blonde’s words. Quatre patted his lover on the arm, a silent conversation passing between them that I ignored in favor of downing another glass to Duo’s open delight.

I don’t really know what I expected of a Duo who came to my homecoming feast. I’d seen the way he acted at some of the social events at the Capital: sequestered away with the other ladies and dandies, talking amongst each other; dancing with different gentlemen on the dance floor, obviously and silently rebuffing me by refusing to take my hand; laughing quietly with the limited amount of nobles he invited over to our estate in the Capital, as if he too were a guest in his own home.

A Duo that attended as my partner was something new. He sat beside me the entire meal, talking excitedly about pretty much whatever seemed to come to mind for him: the food ("And this is a jalapeno popper!" " _Why does this burn more than the whiskey._ "), the décor (“It’d look even better with string lights!” “String lights?” “Yeah, give me like… 6 months.” “???”), Meilan and Quatre (“Meilan, stop drinking, remember what happened last time—” “You didn’t even like that birdhouse, Your Grace.” “ _That’s not the point_.”), the garden (“I couldn’t find pumpkin, but that’s fine, I can make do with squash!”)… There wasn’t a chance to feel uncomfortable as his chatter washed over me, pleasant and entertaining.

When he’d been with the other nobles in the Capital, in those fleeting moments where he caught sight of me, his expression soured and the words he traded with his fluttering sycophants were barbed and derogatory. The way he looked at me now was completely different; his eyes sparkled in the warm, low light of the room as he poured me glass after glass, trading banter with Meilan that elicited more of that charming laughter I’d only heard long before we’d been wed. There were so many more expressions I’d never been privy to as well, such as the way his cheeks and ears flushed a light pink when he was embarrassed.

“Go on, tell him! Tell the Duke what you named your horse!” Meilan cajoled, a little wine sloshing out of her cup as she gestured to Duo.

Duo slouched a bit in his seat, nursing his glass of bourbon and refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. “You’re the worst friend,” he complained into his cup.

“Miss Catherine let you pick out a horse and _what did you name him,”_ Meilan insisted.

Duo mumbled something into the glass.

“I think it’s a lovely name,” Quatre interjected cheerfully.

Meilan threw a grape at him. “You’re also on your sixth glass of wine,” she snipped. “ _And_ you’re married to Barton.”

“I guess I deserved that for just sitting here, minding my own business,” Trowa murmured airily.

“Shut up, you’re a cat whisperer.”

“I’m a what—”

I ignored them, turning curious eyes on Duo. “What’s the name of your horse?” _And when did you decide to get a horse?_ I’d offered him a plethora of horses at the beginning of our marriage, but he’d turned down the offer and (scathingly) replied he’d only be riding in carriages.

Duo peeked up at me from his staring contest with the bourbon, and I ignored the way my stomach flipped at the sight. (It might just be from my third glass of bourbon, honestly.) I looked at him in what I hoped was an encouraging way, but alcohol had a tendency to stiffen my features instead of relax them.

“…I named him Skeletor.”

I stared at him.

“’Cause, you know, his face is all white but the rest of him is solid black…”

…So he named his horse after a skeleton? Only he changed one letter??

“ _Skeletor!”_ Meilan echoed in utter glee. “The thing is as docile as a puppy, and he names it like some kind of ghost!”

“You are so drunk right now,” Wufei scowled at his wife, pouring a glass of water and shoving it into her hands.

“It’s a fine name for a horse,” I told Duo evenly.

Duo grinned, darting a victorious look Meilan’s way. “Heero says it’s a great name!”

“He said it was ‘fine’,” Meilan retorted. “Not ‘great’!”

I glared at her. “It’s a _wonderful_ name,” I enunciated clearly.

“As if we should trust your tastes, you’re friends with Wufei.”

_But you married Wufei???_

“You’re married to Master Chang!” Duo shot back in my defense.

Meilan slammed her now-empty glass down on the table. “No! _He’s_ married to _me!”_

“No, I’m married to a drunkard,” Wufei griped, pouring another glass of water but instead of handing it directly to Meilan, he stood and pulled her up with him. “We’ll retire for the night. She needs to sober up a bit before she sleeps, otherwise she’ll wake up with a hangover and make it everyone else’s problem.”

“I’ll make _you_ everyone else’s problem,” she muttered, but didn’t protest as he led her away.

It wasn’t long before Quatre and Trowa bid their goodnights as well, obviously intent on having a more private party as they vanished from sight. I chanced another look at Duo; he’d finished his glass and was now glancing around the hall, which still had most of the knights happily drinking and talking amongst each other.

“Shall we retire?” I asked him, masking my tentative tone with indifference.

Duo jolted, looking at me before quickly looking away. “Uh, yeah, okay!” he said, then inexplicably took another shot of bourbon before standing. I was quick to stand as well, holding out my arm to him which he hurriedly took; despite the fact that he’d never once rejected my arm today, it still sent a pleasant tingle down my spine.

I led us out of the great hall after bidding the remaining knights to enjoy their time, and we were followed only by Hilde several paces behind us. We could still hear the merry-making even out in the corridor, which was warmed only by the passing lanterns. Duo’s exposed shoulders and collarbones seemed to taunt me in numerous ways with every glance I took at my husband.

“Spring nights are chilly,” I recalled aloud.

“Uh-huh,” Duo agreed lightly, and I remembered he’d had far more to drink than I did.

Still, even with the warmth of bourbon in his belly, it didn’t seem right to let him get cold – so I quickly unclasped my half cape, pulling it over Duo’s shoulders so that his skin was no longer exposed to the cool night air.

“Oh, thanks,” Duo blinked up at me, re-taking my offered arm. “You aren’t cold?”

“I’ll be fine. You’re more delicate,” I replied.

Duo frowned at me. It may have been a scowl, except I’d seen Duo scowl before, and it never looked that soft. “I’m not delicate,” he told me, and then completely unprompted, hip-checked me. It didn't hurt but it did get me to stop walking, completely surprised by the move.

Now Duo was pouting. “You didn’t even budge,” he complained. “You’re like a brick wall. How the hell are you so sturdy?”

“Training,” I replied, promptly and unthinkingly.

Duo nodded in sage agreement. “I need to train more,” he murmured to himself.

Duo training? To what – effectively hip-check me?

“You’re fine as you are, Duo,” I told him softly, and _meant_ it. Whatever version of Duo I was met with, I was also fine with; I married a Duo that despised me, and spent a homecoming feast with a Duo that seemingly enjoyed my company. I cared for both of them equally, regardless of what they felt for me.

We were, after all, not a love match.

“Heero…”

Duo spent a moment looking at me, and his violet eyes almost seemed to glow in the shadows of the corridor. His eyes had often been likened to amethyst gems among the court nobles, each compliment effusive in their adoration for my husband’s looks. I could see it sometimes, in the cold light of day when Duo looked at the rare things he did not hate, but more often than not his eyes looked like the sky in that haunting hour in the middle of the night, when the light of the stars seemed too far away to reach.

_Beauty does not mean good,_ my father had told me on my first day among the nobles of Sanc.

_Good does not mean kind,_ Solo Maxwell had told me, handing me a scroll with blood-specked fingers.

I reached out to Duo now, gently placing his hand – still uncalloused, as it should be – in the crook of my elbow. I led him, quietly and sedately, back down the corridors to his bedchambers. With every step, he leaned a bit more on me, and I tried not to think about the warmth he exuded at my side.

There was always the possibility he would remember to hate me. There was always the possibility he would learn to hate me again. Duo’s affection was a thing of the moment, only to be enjoyed for that moment – and perhaps coveted later, when that warmth returned once more to ice and night-sky eyes.

It was only when we reached the door to the Duchess’s bedchambers that Duo finally hesitated, pulling us to a stop a few meters away. Asahi, still guarding the door, had moved to open them as Hilde tread past us to go inside and prep the area for Duo’s bedtime rituals.

“Duo?”

“Heero, I…” Duo looked at the door to his bedroom, then back to me, then at some point past my shoulder. “…I think I need another drink.”

I didn’t like to police Duo’s hobbies or drinking habits, but given how much bourbon he’d consumed tonight, any more drinking may risk his health. “I don’t think anything but water is a good idea,” I carefully suggested.

Duo paused, thought about my words – and the length it time it took him to do so made it obvious just how drunk he was – before vaguely nodding in agreement. He still didn’t move to enter his bedchambers, and I wouldn’t leave until I saw him go safely inside, so we just remained standing together in the hall for another few breaths.

(Asahi looked like he wanted to die, but I didn’t pay him any mind.)

“Heero, I…” Duo’s eyes turned away from the unseen point past my shoulder to some indeterminate point on the floor. “I don’t remember…our wedding night.”

I blinked at him. “…That’s okay,” I said. With what little he remembered, I doubt our wedding night was that important; it had been a night spent in our separate bedchambers after all, and the following morning, he’d refused to meet for breakfast. It was hardly a night worth remembering.

“So I… I don’t really remember,” Duo continued, and followed this befuddling statement with some nonsensical gestures that probably only meant something to Duo’s drunken mind. “You know?”

I stared at him.

Duo pouted. “ _Sex_ , Heero. I don’t remember having sex,” he explained in a frank tone.

(Asahi was definitely dying in the background, which was good for him because otherwise I would kill him to ensure his silence.)

The easy way those words slipped off his tongue made it sound like Duo was talking about some treat he’d forgotten to try while traveling abroad. I wasn’t even granted any mercy – which was likely for the best, because my throat had dried up and words seemed much too hard to force out at the moment – as Duo continued speaking.

“So this will be like my first time,” he said, pulling his hand out from the crook of my arm, but only so he could grab my shoulders. I had no choice but to look him straight in the eye, and I really hoped it was the bourbon that was making my stomach flip and my face heat up. “You’ve got to be gentle, okay? I know you just got back but this body can’t really take a pounding.”

( _“I’m not here, I’m a wall… I’m not here, I’m a wall…”_ Asahi chanted quietly to himself.)

“And there are times people prefer a gentle lover,” Duo continued, because this was apparently a fascinating new way to kill me.

“Duo,” I heaved out, before he tried to suggest positions or something else certain to make it impossible to look him in the eye when he was sober. “We are _not_ having sex.” _And never have to begin with._

Duo blinked wide eyes at me, shocked by the very notion. “Really? …Why?”

_Don’t ask me why._ “You’re drunk,” I told him, although this reason was one of many.

“…Oh yeah, I guess I am,” he mumbled. “Well, okay then… If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure,” I stated fervently. “Drink some water before you go to bed, Duo.”

“’Kay, you too,” he said to me with a little smile, patting me twice on the shoulder before turning around. The sudden movement of his own body knocked him off balance and he pitched sideways; I jerked forward to catch him before his body could hit the floor, moving back to an upright position with him cradled in my arms.

“Good catch,” Duo slurred to me groggily, then promptly passed out.

I stared down at him, heart racing.

“Asahi,” I bit out.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace, I am not Asahi – I am a wall.”

_Right_. “Then this wall better maintain a vow of silence and say nothing about what just happened.”

“Walls do not have ears or eyes, Your Grace, so you can rest assured that this wall saw and heard nothing,” Asahi swore with glazed eyes, clearly unwilling to face reality. At least he understood discretion.

Hilde took that moment to step out of Duo’s room, and didn’t look even remotely surprised or disgruntled by our current position. “Your Grace, the Duchess’s bed is ready,” she said, tone utterly bland. “If you could lay him down, I will watch over him tonight.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I set Duo down atop the soft sheets of his bed, taking only a moment to make sure he was comfortable. Hilde would help strip him of some of the more restrictive layers of his clothing, so I needn’t worry about doing so and crossing those boundaries Duo had set up prior to his amnesia.

Still, there was one thing I could do to make Duo just a little more comfortable; with gentle fingers, I reached behind his neck and undid the clasp on the simple silver choker wrapped around his throat. It was different from Duo’s usual taste in jewelry: thin silver netted together over the expanse of his throat, with only the occasional small bit of diamond sprinkled among its intersecting layers.

I set it to the side, surprised by the weight and chill of it. It was a good thing I’d wrapped my half-cape around Duo, if even his jewelry had gotten that cold from our short walk. “Sleep well, Duo,” I whispered to him, pulling my hand away before I gave in to the urge to ghost my fingertips along one of his flushed cheeks.

I turned away, nodding goodnight to Hilde as I swept past her and out of Duo’s bedroom.

I ignored the way my fingers tingled.

* * *

**A/N** : To everyone wondering why no one (maids and Gundam boys alike) notices Duo’s creepy new jewelry, I have two words for you: _hyper jammers_. ;)

_"Duo was, objectively, devastatingly beautiful."_

\--'Objectively' beautiful, my ass....

I've linked some fanart done for this story above (it should be in the End Chapter notes), so please be sure to give the artists some love!

_Please be kind and_ **_drop a comment and kudos!_ :)**


	21. Arc II, Chapter 21

**A/N** : These 'C' chapters are always gonna be shorter than the others... But hopefully this means the next chapter will be out quicker! 😊

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**Arc II, Chapter 21**

_Melissa_

* * *

Melissa prided herself on being one of the most level-headed of the Duchess’s maids. She wasn’t as prone to tears as Kaori, or as romance-obsessed as Coralina – but she did her job quickly and efficiently, and only devolved into the occasional bout of gossip with the Duchess if the mood hit. She may not be as competent as Miss Hilde, but she had her own strengths and other servants tended to turn to her if they needed help mending the Duchess’s clothes or getting the bloodstains out.

“Say,” Coralina murmured beside her. “Doesn’t Miss Hilde look like she’s going to kill someone?”

As far as Melissa was concerned, Miss Hilde always kind of looked like she was going to kill someone. Melissa initially thought that was just the natural reaction to being in the position of the Duchess’s personal attendant, an occupation no one had envied a year ago. It took extremely thick skin to bear the Duchess’s vitriol for as long as Miss Hilde had, and even in the few hours Melissa had spent each day in the presence of the Duchess, she had barely been able to stand it.

That time felt like ages ago now though. Melissa thought of just a few hours ago, where she’d been helping the Duchess get ready and then seeing him smuggle pouches of snacks into his hidden pockets. The Duchess she’d known last winter would never have been caught dead at the Duke’s welcome party, let alone be sneaking in a snack break as he waited outside.

At least the Duke hadn’t really changed; he was as handsome and intimidating as ever, returning to the residence with his men in tow. The flowers had been a surprise – it was rare for the Duke to give the Duchess a gift so directly, since before he’d left, it was likely the Duchess would have refused it. For the most part, if the Duke was away from the residence, he would return with any reasonable number of gifts for the Duchess, which were quietly added to his personal chambers until the Duchess noticed and had them thrown out.

 _A reasonable number,_ Melissa reflected, keeping herself busy with arranging the new rolls of multicolored silks.

“Miss Hilde, where should we put—”

Miss Hilde turned a frigid look on the poor servant who’d approached her, leading a small group of four carrying an exquisitely decorated screen. It was a beautiful piece of art: gilded peacock feathers had been embroidered across nearly every inch of it, set in various swirling patterns that looked both luxurious and decadent. It stood taller than even Commander Barton, set in eight heavy panels and meant to stand alone as the centerpiece to a room.

It was also the _seventh_ similarly extravagant screen received today.

“Did the Duke buy out the entire barbarian territory?” Miss Hilde scowled. “Or did he exchange all of our armaments for luxury goods?”

The servant shrunk and whimpered in the face of her simmering ire. An understandable response, but Melissa couldn’t quite dredge up any sympathy because right after she was done rearranging the Duchess’s new fineries, she had to start putting away all of the expensive quilts that were starting to tower on the distribution table.

The sheer number of gifts the Duke had brought home for his husband this time around was sure to be some sort of record. Rolls of violet and light blue silks; jewelry so lavish that they gleamed any time light glimpsed them; screens designed with the highest degree of artistic taste, each one not quite in the same style; various pendants and brooches, matched with cloaks and traveling capes of the highest quality; vases of various sizes, made from the most coveted and delicate materials. The opulence was obvious with each one shown, and not only befit the title of Duchess, but also would have suited the extreme tastes of the Duchess a year ago.

Kaori gasped, holding up a tiger-striped piece of fabric that looked similar to the one the Duchess had sold off last spring.

“His Grace the Duke… _Nooo_ …” Kaori murmured, tears in her eyes.

Coralina laid a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Just… Just hide it in the back of the closet…”

Fortunately, not all of the gifts were like that. Several seemed to have more personal value, rather than just as expensive presents meant to satisfy expensive tastes. First among these was the elegant figure of a large bird of indistinct features, sculpted from immaculate jade, golden talons grasping at five different-colored jewels: white diamond, black onyx, emerald, sapphire, and ruby. Miss Hilde had that placed in the Duchess’s bedchambers, the best place for the more fragile gifts given that the Duchess had begun experimenting in his personal study.

The Duchess had also been gifted a brass inkstand fashioned as flowering vines, a lacquered letterbox filled with excellent writing paper, a knitting box embellished with white clovers, and several manuscripts bound with leather covers. They could tell that these gifts had more personal meanings, as the Duke had taken the time to cover them in an embroidered gold-wrapped thread that depicted an intricate pattern of plum blossoms on the indigo-dyed satin silk.

Melissa was relieved by these more personalized gifts, as she was sure they were all things the Duchess would actually enjoy. Not to mention that the Duke would be inordinately pleased that for the first time, his gifts would be appreciated instead of abhorred.

“Where is His Grace the Duchess?” Melissa asked. Last she'd seen him was at the welcome party, where he was being whisked away by the Duke and his advisors, along with Lady Meilan.

Miss Hilde didn’t look away from her staredown with the poor guards carrying in another extravagant screen. “He’s with Mr. Howard down in the kitchens, organizing things for the dinner feast."

“He’s making sure they made all of the Duke’s favorites,” Coralina piped in.

Miss Hilde’s eyes looked utterly dead. “I’m sure the Duke will be touched by such consideration,” she said, words punctuated with killing intent as someone carried in another roll of silk.

“At least this is better than last year,” Melissa tried. The last time the Duke had been away on a short expedition, he’d come back and discovered the Duchess had thrown away all of the jewelry and paintings the Duke had given him as part of the courtship leading up to their marriage, and then barred the estate cook from making any of the recipes that the Duke favored.

Miss Hilde sighed, expression relaxing. “Yes, it is,” she agreed.

Even Miss Hilde had changed, if Melissa really thought about it; while she was never cold or cruel, she’d been mostly aloof with the other staff and even the guards, always by the Duchess’s side even when his words could flay the hardest of hearts. All of the servants knew she was more than just a maid to the Duchess, closer to the likes of the Duchess Guard in occupation, but the well-known animosity between her and the Duchess had made them a strange pair to see.

Now, though, Miss Hilde got along much better with the Duchess – so much so that the Duchess actually _listened_ to her. Melissa didn’t know if this drastic change in their relationship had gotten to Miss Hilde’s head, but the incident at the Peacemillion Church had sent a shockwave through all of the estate staff.

Melissa was born and bred in the Yuy province; just like her fellow countrymen, she was a devoted follower of Peacemillion. When she’d first learned that their Duke had married a Maxwell, a family known for the heretical worship of the Harvester, she’d been as disquieted as the next person; when she’d first met him – beautiful and cold and _terrifying_ – she thought that maybe the rumors about the Maxwell’s were right.

That Miss Hilde could stand behind the Duchess, quiet and unobtrusive, had been a shock. She was a Peacemillion follower as well, even if she didn’t hail from the Yuy province – but maybe Capital girls were just built differently.

Everyone had heard about the confrontation in the Duchess’s study, the fallout of which had left the Duchess moving through the corridors of the estate alone. Melissa had a healthy dose of residue fear of the Duchess, remembering the times he’d force her to remake his tea for the smallest of grievances – but now she also remembered the time when he gave her his scarf when it got too cold one winter morning too.

The apology the Duchess had given everyone was very much appreciated but Melissa couldn’t help but agree with Chef Morris – it wasn’t necessary. Just as the Duchess had said, apologies are more than just words, they are _actions_.

And the Duchess was the one who had Doctor Po give her the medicine to bring down her mother’s high fever; the Duchess was the one who sent her on vacation to Taketoyo with enough money for both herself and her mother to spend freely; the Duchess was the one who moved her mother into an empty servant’s room so that Melissa no longer had to leave her alone for long hours of the day.

That’s why Melissa didn’t need an apology.

That’s why Melissa trusted and believed in the Duchess.

That’s why Melissa didn’t like what Miss Hilde and Mr. Howard had done.

That’s why…

That’s why Melissa didn’t tell anyone about the raven in the courtyard.

* * *

**A/N** : Btw, Melissa is named in honor of the MC of 'Beware of the Villainess!' although not even close to as OP as her.... But who can be? 😂😍

**Flower meanings:**

  * _White clover_ – think of me
  * _Plum blossom_ – perseverance, hope; also beauty, purity, and the transience of life



_Please be kind and_ **_drop a comment and kudos!_ :)**


	22. Arc II, Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero's only been back for a DAY and already the chaos has descended.

**A/N** : Hey, not bad, it's only been less than a week since my last update!

 **Warnings for this chapter** : poison/poisoning, dead(?) bird

* * *

**Chapter 22**

* * *

“It’s such a lovely morning, isn’t it?” I said cheerfully, spreading some jam over a steaming biscuit.

An acidic glare was shot my way courtesy of Meilan, paired with the long-suffering sigh of Quatre - which I thought was still preferable to the bemused glances I’d been receiving prior from their respective partners. I don’t know what the deal was with Wufei and Trowa; maybe they just didn’t expect me to come down to breakfast given the amount of bourbon I’d poured down my throat last night.

My alcohol tolerance was surprisingly high considering the body I now inhabited – so much so that it made me wonder if maybe other-me had a secret wine stash hidden away that Hilde refused to tell me about. Bourbon appeared to be the only thing that could affect me, and even that took an absurdly high amount, as made obvious by how much I’d consumed at last night’s feast.

Fortunately, in this body – I was also spared the hangover.

“Yes,” Heero answered after a stilted pause. It was nice to have someone play along and answer, as Hilde was originally the only one that did, and even that had been colored with some residual homicidal tendencies. Heero was a sweetheart. Also surprisingly clumsy, as he dropped his fork as soon as I shot him an appreciative smile.

It was a pleasant surprise to learn that Heero apparently took meals with his ~~friends~~ advisors whenever possible. I know that they’d done so in the novel, but most of those scenes were centered around capital banquets or at campfires as they traveled; I had no idea he just took his usual meals with his friends.

It was also a nice change from my lonely meals after I’d first woken up here, where I ate alone in my bedroom. That had changed a bit after I befriended Meilan and Quatre returned, but usually our morning routines operated on such different times that I only saw them for lunch and dinner. It had been a rare experience for me to share breakfast with someone, even back in NYC; the last time I remembered doing so regularly was at the Maxwell Church.

So even if Wufei and Trowa seemed intent on pretending I didn’t exist outside of cursory greetings, this was still rather nice. “Why can’t you suffer like the rest of us?” Meilan grumbled, stabbing a spoon into her bowl of chicken congee – the only thing she could stomach this morning.

“I’m too pretty,” I told her with a particularly smug smile.

Heero’s expression was completely blank. “Yes,” he agreed again with solemn determination.

Wufei let out something like a pained sigh but honestly, I could kind of understand; every time Heero does something Male Lead-ish, it feels like my heart is trying to jam itself into my gut. I patted my not-really-but-yes-technically husband on the thigh in thanks, ignoring the way he dropped his fork again.

It was still an obvious gesture on my part even without Heero’s clumsiness highlighting the movement, as he was sat at the head of the table and I sat myself in the seat adjacent to him, seeing as it made the most sense to me that this was where the Duchess would sit.

It made me wonder… Why was the dining table so long? We had a banquet hall for the longer tables if we had to entertain guests, but the dining room was for more personal meals; there shouldn’t be a need for a 14-seat dining table, even if Heero ate his meals with his advisors and their spouses.

My eyes flitted to Quatre, who was nursing a cup of tea. Actually, why was _he_ hungover? Even after that time I got him day-drunk, he’d never showed any signs of being hungover; I thought that he was just like me and didn’t experience those side effects.

Baby blue eyes glanced up and met mine. He smiled, eyes darting to Trowa sat beside him, and then down into his lap with obvious emphasis. The meaning clicked a second later, and this time it was my turn to drop my fork as my face heated up.

It wasn’t the idea that Quatre had, uh, _enjoyed_ his husband’s return so thoroughly last night that elicited the reaction – it was that it suddenly reminded me of what _I_ had done last night; namely, unintentionally propositioning Heero for sex.

In my defense, throughout the countless books and manuals Lady Aurora had me read regarding marital duties, along with whatever vague knowledge I retained on medieval periods from my history classes back home, I thought I had been obligated to sleep with Heero at least once upon his return. And I mean, I was no stranger to the occasional one-night stand, and Heero was guaranteed to be a decent guy given his male lead status, so I could do it! I just needed a little liquid courage is all!!

And then like a true romantic lead, he refused to take advantage of my drunken self. I was mostly relieved by it, but at the same time – it was a bit mortifying remembering that I had basically told him to treat me gently.

“You know what, I’m not talking to you anymore,” I told Quatre, voice maybe just a _little_ high.

Quatre gave a noncommittal hum. “I didn’t say anything though?”

“Meilan, make Quatre stop being mean to me.”

“No.”

_Vipers! Vipers everywhere I turn!_

“What’s going on?” Wufei hissed quietly to his wife.

Meilan mumbled into her congee, pointedly not looking at anyone.

Giving up on the two traitors I called friends – Quatre looking especially amused by my disgruntlement, the _bastard_ – I determinedly turned to Heero. He was looking at some indistinct spot in the center of the table, for all intents and purposes zoned out; maybe I should introduce him to espresso, the poor guy could use some caffeine shots.

“Heero, do you have some time today? There’s something I need to speak to you about,” I said, glancing back to Hilde and flicking my gaze from my coffee to Heero, silent instructions clear. Hilde just looked pained though, probably because I’d failed to have my first meal with my husband without some breach in etiquette, although I was fully ready to blame that on Quatre.

Heero lifted his gaze to me, unperturbed. “…I have to review the guards’ training after breakfast,” he told me. “But I have time in the afternoon.”

“That’d be fine!” I agreed. I had to review the estate budget and supplies again anyway, given our returned forces, not to mention go over the new additions to the estate that Heero had gifted to me. (Hilde had looked rather murderous after she told me that, which made me kind of worried – what the hell did Heero bring back home?) A meeting in the afternoon would be perfect. “Oh, and would you mind accompanying me to the town market this weekend?” _I need to show you how much has changed!_

Heero stared at me.

“Not to go shopping!” I hurriedly reassured him, trying to read the look on his face. Maybe just like Asahi, he was having war flashbacks to other-me’s shopping sprees? “Just to enjoy the day!”

Heero continued to stare at me.

“The Duke says yes, he would love to,” Quatre stated serenely.

I turned a bewildered look on the blonde. _But he didn’t say anything?_

Quatre placed a hand over his heart as if to say, _‘I could sense it.’_

Which, given what I knew about him, made sense – but still. I glanced back to Heero, who had his eyes now on Quatre with an almost lost look on his face. Did he really hate going with me that much?

Quatre shook his head. _‘He wants to go with you,’_ he seemed to insist.

Wufei snorted, darting a dismissive look my way while Trowa kept silent, his attention entirely focused on his bread roll. It was obvious they were refusing to acknowledge me (or my plans with Heero) in any way that could be construed as supportive.

“…I am _begging_ you to have this conversation out loud,” Meilan suddenly said, voice dry.

I blinked. “We’re having a weekend date,” slipped out of my mouth without my thinking it through.

Heero’s fork once again clattered back down on to his plate.

_Jesus Christ, Hilde, get him some coffee!!_

* * *

It turned out that reviewing all of the new additions to the estate was the more laborious task of my morning, as Quatre had deigned to grace us simple-minded accountants with his skills and dropped off the completed account and budget of our returned forces on my desk. (I professed my undying love and awe of his skills the moment I saw it.) This gave me the rest of my morning moving from room to room in the estate in order to view the ridiculous amount of gifts Heero had given me.

I tried to get out of it by just delegating the task to Hilde, but she told me (with a parody of a smile that was more a threatening baring of her teeth) that it was my job to approve her choice of placement and design. This really just meant I had to look at every little thing, pretend to think about it, and agree.

Which got old at the tenth roll of silk I was presented.

When I asked if that was the last one, Melissa got a little wild-eyed so I wisely stopped asking and let them parade all of the fabrics past me, with vague appreciative sentiments falling from my lips. I was partly amused by the small army of decorative screens I now had, but had been told _(scolded)_ by Hilde when I’d tried to arrange them like a maze in my study because Hilde was a firm believer in making everything as excruciating as possible.

Lunch was taken separately for today; I had mine in my office, as did Quatre, and I think Heero and Commander Barton took theirs down at the training grounds. Meilan and Wufei must have had theirs together, which I thought was good since it gave them some alone time.

I spent the early part of the afternoon preparing for my meeting with Heero. I was joined by Howard and Quatre, and together we pored over everything we had researched and compiled to make this meeting as effective as possible.

When I’d be given word that Heero was finally on his way back from the training grounds, Howard and Quatre left so that I could quickly change outfits. As much as I appreciated the hard work my maids put into dressing me in _Duchess Couture,_ I needed a more business-like outfit when it came to what I had planned. Hilde helped me dress in something more understated (and comfortable!), a simple dark violet tunic with embroidered flowers along the seams matched with simple beige pants, and rearranged my hair back into my favored single braid hairstyle.

Once I snapped my favorite choker back on, Howard came back and let us know that Heero was now ready for our meeting. Both he and Hilde followed a couple of steps behind me as I made my way towards the Duke’s study, both carrying the materials needed with solemnity.

Stationed outside of the Duke’s study were the customary guards, although I didn’t recognize them – which meant they must be part of Heero’s personal guard retinue and had gone with him on the expedition. Their eyes tightened at my appearance but they gave no other obvious expression of distaste, something that clearly bothered the people around me – especially Sayaka and Mifune, following behind us.

The Duchess Guard had become more tense, due in part to the sudden influx of members. Apparently there were some members who had gone abroad with Heero, and upon their return, were added back into the rotations; between the guards I knew, to the new ones that they’d just started training, and now these returned guards – personalities were clashing.

I’d met the new leader of the Duchess Guard just this morning, and it was clear to me that Simon had not been a fan of the original Duchess. He’d never been outright rude, but it was obvious in some of the things he did and said that he didn’t understand why I needed such intense protection. (I agreed with him, but Mikhail – standing behind Simon – looked downright mutinous.) He’d reduced my guard to two soldiers while within and outside of the estate, and it looked like today that was Sayaka and Mifune.

We were brought into Heero’s study in quick order, Quatre already waiting for us and standing as soon as we entered. Heero did much the same from behind his desk, eyes alighting on me and staying there – possibly trying to understand what warranted my outfit change. His attention soon shifted focus when he caught sight of Hilde and Howard hovering behind me, carrying our gathered reports and plans.

“Duo...” God, I really missed someone calling me by my given name; every time Heero did, my heart seemed to soar.

Heero gestured for me to take a seat in the lounge area, which was really very sweet of him but I didn’t think it was appropriate for me to recline languidly on the sofa as I tried to explain orphanage reformation to him. Instead, I shook my head and gestured for him to retake his seat, as was proper if I was going to introduce new legislation to the Duke.

Unfortunately, Heero was not just a Duke – he was a goddamn male lead, which meant he was honor-bound not to let his poor, waif-like dandy husband stand for longer than 15 seconds while he got to relax in a chair. However, this poor, waif-like dandy had no intention of breaking my thin veneer of professionalism – which left us in a silent stalemate, taking turns gesturing to various pieces of furniture in the room and waiting for the other to give in.

This fun game of reverse-musical chairs was put to an abrupt end when Quatre dragged over one of the armchairs from the lounge area to set it in front of Heero’s desk, and the beatific smile he gave me was more than enough of a threat – I sat my ass down, trying not to look terrified.

Heero finally took his own seat, glancing towards Howard. “Howard, could you get the Duchess some refreshments?”

Howard nodded, politely setting his bundle of materials on the Duke’s desk and departing. Hilde did the same before she took up position near the door, stationary and uninvolved in the discussion. Quatre had already dragged over another armchair beside mine, claiming it as his own but quiet, clearly there in support of me rather than leading.

Heero’s eyes darted from the papers and back to me. “What was it you’d like to discuss?”

I’m sure there was a certain way to suggest and develop reformations, some kind of formalized process mired in bureaucracy and polite language. People that were able to navigate such discussions without giving in to the need to slam 300+ pages of proposed legislation into the face of their opponents honestly had my respect and admiration, because this was something I’d never thought I would be involved in.

But hell, no time like the present! “We need to change how we run orphanages, because the current state of them sucks,” I told Heero frankly.

…Amazing, I could hear Hilde sigh even from all the way over here!

“Phrasing,” Quatre chimed in with muted exasperation.

_Everyone’s a critic._

But alright, Heero’s expression had shifted somewhere between ‘thoughtful glowering’ to ‘confused glowering’, so I guess he needed a more thorough explanation. “While visiting the Blackwell Orphanage here in town, we learned some concerning things about how the orphanages are run,” I began.

Heero’s expression shifted infinitesimally from ‘constipated glowering’ to an outright frown. “Is that the place where you were attacked?”

 _Attacked?_ “…Oh, you mean by the guy with the hatchet?”

Heero’s frown morphed right back into a glower.

“Um, no,” I coughed out awkwardly. “Blackwell was awful in its own special way: their potato soup didn’t have any taste.”

Heero’s glower blanked out into nothingness. “…Taste?” he echoed, as if I was Hannibal Lecter remarking on the fine taste of wine and human flesh.

“Do you know what it means that a meal doesn’t have any taste, Heero?” I asked him. “Do you know what that says about the people who make and eat it?”

“…That they can’t cook?”

“ _No!”_ I exclaimed. “It means they can’t afford flavor! It means they can’t afford other vegetables! They can’t afford seasonings or meat or herbs! They can’t even afford some salt to add to their boiled potato sludge!”

 _“Did you really hate the potato soup that much?”_ I heard Hilde mutter under her breath.

Quatre just looked like he was in pain and was valiantly trying to hide it behind a grim smile. “Your Grace, please sit down,” he advised. “And Your Grace the Duke – please review the materials before you. His Grace the Duchess worked on the bulk of it himself, with only some minor help from both myself and Mr. Howard.”

I frowned at him. “You did more than that. You helped calculate the allocated budget for the pathway program and its funding, not to mention—”

“But Your Grace, you’re the one who created the budget for the restructuring, not to mention the estimates for building more communal residences—”

I noticed Heero flipping open one of the stacked reports, pausing briefly just as Howard had done on the first page. He was quick to move on though, reading at a much faster pace than Howard or even me – and I had no doubt in my mind that he was reading and remembering every line. That’s the power of the male lead!

 _So cool! Heero’s really too cool!_ Not even including his astonishingly good looks, he was still awesome; he had the strength of a tank and the moral backbone of any titular superhero, not to mention his foolishly kind heart that empowered him to help the weak. A literal princess fell for him – and who wouldn’t?

“…just put the tea on the table, Mr. Howard, I’m sure the Duchess will notice it once he’s done slobbering over the Duke…”

Heero’s head shot up so fast from the papers that it probably should have snapped his neck, but I just turned away from his surprised glower to glare at Quatre. “You know, I liked you a lot better when you were sex-deprived,” I told him and watched in satisfaction as he choked on his drink.

Howard pushed a cup of warm tea into my hands, and I focused on that so that I could avoid Heero’s gaze. I soon regretted it when the overly-sweet taste hit my tongue, and I only barely stopped myself from spitting it out back into the cup. _Jesus,_ I forgot some of the returning forces were other cooks and servants, so they’d probably missed the memo that the Duchess wasn’t a fan of sweet things anymore.

Quatre, nursing a cup of coffee that had also been served to Heero, remained quiet but gave me a knowing glance as I set the teacup back down on the table. One sip was more than enough for that cup of syrupy glucose masquerading as tea.

Heero eventually turned back to reading our reports, and I relaxed slightly. It wasn’t that I thought Heero wouldn’t like the proposal – it was more that I wasn’t sure he thought it would be worth the effort right now.

Sanc was a kingdom in a near-constant state of war. It was for this reason that the Yuy duchy was as honored and strong as it was; as the main resource for soldiers and weaponry, the Yuy duchy had solidified its hold of power through bloodshed. The war with Oz and Romefeller had been background in the novel and ended in an almost laughable way: with the unexpected death of the King of Oz, murdered by one of his own concubines. The most Heero and the others had been involved in was the occasional skirmish, and some notable assassination attempts after Relena had been revealed as the lost princess.

The novel hadn’t gone too far into their happily-ever-after, ending only after Oz conceded defeat and Romefeller fell into quiet ruin. In a novel, they didn’t have to worry about the future – about what it meant when the war machine that had powered an entire duchy to prominence suddenly wasn’t needed anymore.

In peace, what use did Sanc have for soldiers?

It had never been addressed in the book, frankly because it had never gotten that far – but the Yuy duchy, even with the discovery of the iron ore mines, still had soldiers as its primary export; people from Yuy dominated the bulk of the Sanc Kingdom’s military force. This had been all well and good when they had ongoing battles with Oz and Romefeller, but what happened when the war was finally over?

That’s why when I was considering improving the Yuy duchy, it wasn’t just for the present; it was for the future when I was no longer the Duchess and Heero became King-Consort. He would lead not just his own duchy, but also the entire kingdom of Sanc into a new age of peace, and what better way to start than by having the people of his duchy become something other than weapons of war?

Heero finished the last report, taking a moment to breathe and simply stare off into space in thought. His fingers rested against the top stack of reports, and then his eyes turned to me. “You want to put the orphanages under the care of the duchy, open free schooling to all children, and use the revenue from taxation to fund it,” he summarized blankly.

That certainly vastly simplified the 300+ pages of proposed legislation, construction plans, accounts, budgeting, staffing, possible pathway programs and apprenticeships, healthcare, and possible barriers to overcome that made up the sleepless nights myself, Howard, and Quatre had put into this.

“Yes,” I answered.

“…Duo,” The way Heero sometimes said my name was obscene, his voice practically cradled the syllables. “What brought this on?”

“Do I need a reason to want to improve the lives of our people?” I asked him coolly.

Heero was very still. “You don’t,” he agreed after a breath. “But Duo—”

“Heero, do you want to turn every child in this province into a soldier?” I cut him off.

I’d already seen what happened to a standing army that had no enemy to fight and didn’t think that was what Relena would want for her people. Heero, for all his military prowess, had also never loved war and all it entailed; so I couldn’t believe he was happy churning out soldier after soldier when it came to the people he was responsible for.

“Your Grace—” Quatre began, fairly radiating distress as he looked at me, caught off-guard by my words. But frankly, I had no attention to spare him, eyes on Heero who suddenly looked very wan even in the warm afternoon light.

“I already know that’s not what you want,” I said, ignoring the way Heero’s expression – usually so rigid – seemed to look almost vulnerable. “You’re not the type of person who thinks of others as only tools to use or weapons to wield.”

Heero may look like the typical brooding male love interest, but that all hid a heart of gold. He was the type of person you could count on to have your back and let you crash at their place without complaint, even if he did have almost no social skills.

“I think that if we want to ensure the prosperity of the Yuy province, then we have to start with our children,” I said. “Making sure every child is clothed, fed, and educated is part of our job as the Duke and Duchess of Yuy, isn’t it?”

I was more than familiar with a childhood that had lacked at least one of those at some point. Heero, raised as a commoner, had surely been the same.

“I brought this up because it’s something I want to do, Heero,” I finished gently. “That’s it. Whether that was prompted by duty, or obligation, or whimsy – what does it matter?”

_After all, tHe eNdS juStiFy ThE mEaNs._

I caught myself on the edge of Heero’s desk after the sudden dizzy spell. Heero and Quatre had both sprung to their feet, Quatre with one hand under my arm and Heero moving around his desk and to my side so fast that I hardly saw him move.

“What the hell,” I muttered. “Is this some kind of delayed hangover?”

My stomach cramped up in pain, and I nearly toppled again before Heero caught me under the other arm so I was hanging like a limpet between him and Quatre. I would have been more embarrassed, but any sort of feeling was swallowed up by the overwhelming sense of nausea.

I vomited right on to Heero’s ugly yellow boots.

Well, _fuck_. “I’d apologize, but honestly, those shoes had to go,” I muttered, although I wondered how much of that sentence was understandable given that my mouth decided it didn’t want to cooperate with me anymore.

“He’s been poisoned.” Quatre’s words sounded from somewhere simultaneously far away and close to my ear, but at least I could clearly identify the tone – that was the ‘imminent beheading’ tone. Oh boy.

 _Poison_. Well, that explained the sudden onslaught of stomach pain and nausea. My neck also felt like it was burning, both on the inside and out; I tried to pull my arm away to reach for my throat, but this only made Heero reach over and pull me fully up into his arms.

The bridal carry did not help with the nausea, but I just tried not to dwell on it as the room erupted into shouts and movement. I didn’t really have enough energy to focus on much more than myself, so I just laid back and blindly felt for my throat where the choker rested. My fingertips pressed against the cool metal and pearls, and it felt so comforting against the burning hot fire that was starting to rage along my skin.

I was set down on something soft – a bed? – but it smelled only vaguely familiar and nothing like my own bed, so it couldn’t be that. I willed open my eyes after realizing they’d somehow slipped closed without my say-so, and sure enough – this looked like the Duke’s bedchambers.

I vomited again, though I did manage to do so over the side of the bed. I was actually kind of impressed with myself for all of five seconds before I nearly toppled over the edge and into it, saved by Heero gently moving me back onto the bed.

My thoughts circled around Heero for a long moment, not really hearing anything he was saying. That was fine, though, because he looked to be snapping out orders to the people swarming in and out of his room rather than talking to me directly.

“Heero,” I called out, suddenly remembering. “Heero, you gotta… Gotta tell Quatre…”

Heero’s eyes snapped down to me. “Duo, it’s okay… It’s okay, just hang on, Sally’s coming,” he said distractedly.

That was not what I was concerned about! I heard Quatre’s tone, and I knew what that meant! “No, Heero… Tell Quatre no killing…” _No killing the people that poisoned me._

…Poisoned me?

Wait – is this an _assassination?_

“Am I…being assasuh—assah—assaininated?” Urgh, words are _hard_. “I…I gotta tell Mikhail…”

Heero stared down at me. “What?”

What does he mean, what? “I’m getting assassined,” I told him plaintively. “Mikhail’s gonna hate this.” This was way better than just another hostage situation! Mikhail was sure to buy into my damsel in distress act now!

But wait – if I was being assassinated, then doesn’t that mean I’m dead? “Oh no… Hilde is going to be so mad…” I gasped out. To think, someone had managed to off me before Hilde’s long-term ‘kill them with kindness’ ploy could!

“I’m already mad, Your Grace,” Hilde told me evenly, suddenly right beside me.

My heart definitely jumped, and I don’t think it was because of the poison. I grabbed the edge of Heero’s shirt, the closest thing in my reach, just to make sure he didn’t leave me alone with her. Hilde ignored that, laying a cool cloth against my forehead and looking to Heero.

“He needs to vomit more,” she told him.

“ _Noooo_ …” I whined. “I don’t hate Heero’s shoes _that_ much…”

“Is it already in his bloodstream? He’s delirious.” That was said in Wufei’s voice, though I had no clue where he was. All I could really see was Heero, with Hilde in the periphery, and I was perfectly fine with only looking at Heero, thank you very much.

 _“You’re_ delirious,” I grumbled.

Sally suddenly came into view, which was perfectly fine – I loved Sally, she was great, she never even seemed that annoyed when I bled all over her in our previous interactions – but her arrival did cause Heero to move away, which was the last thing I wanted. Unlike Heero, Sally could not protect me from Hilde.

“Heero, where’re you going?” I asked, maybe sounding just a tad bit more frantic than was justifiable. “Don’t leave…”

“I won’t,” Heero’s disembodied voice said.

I would have complained about that but Sally’s hands were all over me now, peeling back an eyelid and peering into my eyes. She checked my pulse, heartbeat, and even had me spit into a cup as if she had some kind of secret lab to do tests on it.

I wanted to make a joke about Sally turning into some kind of mad scientist, but that was when she propped up a cup of what looked like granulated tar to my mouth. “Your Grace, please drink this—”

I don’t know if it was the color, or the taste, or the texture, or just the angle as she poured it into my mouth – but my body was not having it and I choked on the first swallow. It almost felt like my arm spasmed as I knocked the drink out of her hand, and I felt like some kind of wild animal as I felt the sludge drip down my throat and out from the corners of my mouth.

 _“Don’t want it, I don’t want it!”_ I think I shrieked.

Something slammed into the window and shattered the glass. I think I heard Coralina scream – she was in here too? – and my vision suddenly cleared as I could see the whole breadth of the room again. It turned out all of my maids were here, and Melissa had thrown a torn curtain over what looked to be a shrieking mass of feathers, Coralina and Kaori trying to help her. Sally, splattered with the black drink concoction I hadn’t intentionally meant to throw back at her, was already up and making another one next to my bed. Hilde was to my right, hands twisted into the cooling towel she had been dabbing me with previously and looking at me with wide eyes. Heero was to my immediate left, hands partially outstretched like he didn’t know whether to restrain me or hold me.

Wufei was in fact in the room, angrily flipping through some kind of book that I guess served as some kind of poison anthology, as he was quickly snapping out orders to the servants loitered outside the door to bring either ingredients or cleaning supplies. Quatre was nowhere to be seen, which meant Heero hadn’t heeded my (admittedly kinda delirious) words from before and the blonde was likely enjoying free reign to find whoever did this, possibly with Meilan and Trowa’s help as they were missing from the party too.

I leaned over the side and vomited again. This time, instead of the food I had enjoyed earlier in the day, what felt like a glob of molasses found its way out of my throat – along with a good mouthful of blood.

I stared at the mess on the floor with glassy eyes, somehow just knowing the thick, dark brown glob was the cause of all this. It WaS iN thE tEa, that’s why it was so sweet—

“That’s so gross,” I managed out, almost relieved by the taste of iron in my mouth because at least it wasn’t whatever the fuck was on the floor.

No one else shared my sudden relief, as Heero picked me up and set me back against the pillows, expression so rigid it looked like his face forgot what it even meant to emote. His voice hadn’t gotten the same memo, though, as it choked out _“Sally!”_ in such a way that it felt like I should start panicking too.

“I think I’m fine now,” I tried to console him because Heero wasn’t supposed to be panicking. In fact, if anyone was supposed to be panicking, wasn’t it supposed to be the guy getting assassinated?

“Please—His Grace needs to drink this, it will help absorb the poison,” Sally rushed out, bringing over another cup of black tar.

I could keenly remember the taste of cinders in my mouth just by looking at it. “I don’t want it, Heero, don’t make me drink it,” I begged him. “I already spit the poison out, look, it’s on the floor—”

“Duo, please,” Heero said, hands coming down to grasp my wrists in a gentle but firm hold. He must have felt my pulse pick up because his grip tightened a bit more as my agitation grew.

Kaori let out a yelp as the mound of black feathers began to tussle more violently, and between the three girls, it was obvious they only had a tenuous grip on what had to be the world’s most volatile bird. Mikhail came surging through the doorway at Wufei’s command, moving directly toward Melissa, who had used the torn curtain to bundle the unexpected visitor up.

“It’s badly injured—I think from crashing through the window,” I heard her say, just as Mikhail made to reach for it.

Sally’s fingers grasped my chin and angled my head, Wufei beside her helping to pry my unhelpful mouth open. The first drop of what I guessed was the remedy or cure to whatever poison I’d ingested hit my tongue, and then what felt like every cell in my body surged up in a loud cry of _‘DO NOT WANT!’_

The bird tore itself free of its curtained cocoon with a shriek so loud that I felt it throb against my eardrums. It launched itself in Sally’s direction, and the only thing saving her from a face full of bird talons was Wufei striking out with one hand (the other hand still busy helping Sally pry my mouth open), smacking the bird harshly away in a spray of feathers and gore. Hilde dashed forward, grabbing the torn curtain from the floor and pulling it over the crushed remains of the black bird, even as it began to twitch. She quickly scooped it up from the floor, keeping its spasming body within the confines of her impromptu bag.

I wanted to tell them to not be so hard on the poor thing, but I couldn’t get much of anything out as Sally determinedly forced the entire cupful of liquid black cement down my throat. It didn’t hurt but the texture could only generously be described as grainy, and for some reason my body had a lethal grudge against anything that looked like it had been scooped right out of the fireplace and poured into my mouth.

My face was finally released from their _tender_ mercies after the entire cup had been drained and I didn’t spit it back out, although I had half a mind to roleplay as that acid-spitting dinosaur. I’d already spit up on Sally though, it seemed petty to do so again when my head finally felt somewhat clear.

I wasn’t quite big-hearted enough to endure her prodding again though and flinched away when she made to check me over.

“His pulse is steadying,” Heero reported, since he still had one hand wrapped around my wrist.

Sally nodded curtly, then reached for me again. With deft and quick hands, she ascertained my temperature and checked for any abnormalities in my mouth and throat. “The skin is showing signs of irritation,” she noted aloud, fingers scraping lightly over the length of my neck – from the top of my throat to the hollow of my collar bone.

It was only after I had half-crawled into Heero’s lap that she was at least partially satisfied. Wufei took the moment to crouch down at the bedside, using some paper scraps to scoop up what I’d vomited out, the dark glob among his retrieval. _Eww._

“He’ll need to be monitored overnight to ensure the toxins successfully leave his body,” Sally explained, and I got to enjoy another speak-around-me-but-not-to-me session as she directed all her words to Heero. “He also needs lots of fluids and rest.”

God, not _more_ bedrest! I opened my mouth to argue but ended up spitting out some leftover blood that I guess had just been congealing in my throat. Heero ripped the blood-stained sheets off the bed and threw them on to the floor, and I was suddenly reminded whose bedroom I was currently in.

Heero’s voice was very even as he spoke. “Prepare a sponge bath and new change of clothes for the Duchess,” he ordered crisply, the maids hurriedly scattering to do as asked. “Bring whatever Doctor Po requires for her overnight observation here.”

Here? As in _Heero’s bedroom?_ “I… I can go back to my own room, Heero…” I offered tentatively, scratching at the back of my neck. It felt a bit raw and itchy after all of the drama.

“You shouldn’t be moved right now, Your Grace,” Sally interjected, now looking over her case of supplies and scratching out a list of medicines for the servants to bring her.

“I can sleep in another room, Duo,” Heero told me, slowly disentangling himself from the half-perch he’d been dragged into.

My eyes caught Hilde just behind his shoulder, who was currently giving the occasionally-flailing curtain-bag she held a murderous look. I’d seen murder in her eyes before – practically since the first day – but I think this was the first time I’d ever felt that maybe she was a thread away from snapping into full-blown homicide.

The thought of being left alone in hers and Sally’s vengefully professional mercies made my heart leap with panic. I latched back on to Heero in desperation, one hand wrapped around his wrist similar to how his hand had shackled mine, the other tangled in his shirt.

“Please don’t leave,” I begged. _Don’t leave me alone with them, I’ll never hear the end of their lecture!!_

Heero froze, standing at what had to be the most uncomfortable angle. “Duo…?”

He sounded so vulnerable – which meant my pleading was _working_. Quatre had subjected me to enough guilt trips that I knew exactly how to work one myself. I tried to drag him closer but Heero was as sturdy as a rock, so I only ended up tiring myself out. Even with shaking limbs, I utterly refused to let him go.

Meilan and Quatre weren’t here to act as buffers and shield me from Hilde’s imminent lecture on proper behavior – I doubt any leeway was given for fighting the doctor and vomiting in public, even if it was because of poison – so I clung to Heero like a barnacle.

Heero’s hands covered mine, gently disentangling my stranglehold on his shirt and then his wrist. His expression – which had originally looked as murderous as Hilde’s but lacked her killing intent – was softened to something more thoughtful, even though his lips turned down at the corners in a seemingly-perpetual frown.

“…I’ll stay,” he promised me softly.

_Shield acquired!_

* * *

**A/N** : Let me just say this right now - it's not Howard, the old man is innocent! And yes, I am just excitedly crossing out romance/fantasy/villainess tropes, although I will admit I had been torn on where I should use the attempted poisoning trope... Then I just imagined Heero's reaction to the impromptu sleepover and couldn't help myself.

Honestly, this whole thing entertained me to the nth degree:

> **Hilde & Melissa**: BIRD?!
> 
> **Duo** : BIRD?!
> 
> **Bird** : AAaaAaaAAAaaAAaAaaAHHhHhhhHHHhHhhHH!!!

_Please be kind and_ **_drop a comment and kudos!_ :)**


	23. Arc II, Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Duo** : Yay, a sleepover!!  
>  **Heero, eyes bloodshot, staring at the ceiling** : …

**A/N** : Absolutely love how everyone is just feeling for Mikhail 😂 _#justiceformikhail_

* * *

**Chapter 23**

* * *

Everyone moved as quickly and quietly as they could, dropping off supplies and putting together a cot for Sally to sleep on in the corner of my bedroom. One of the servants – likely one of Duo’s maids – also had the foresight to move a couple of the decorative folding screens into my room, one to partially block the view of Sally’s cot, the other set up in the corner closest to the fireplace where Duo was currently getting sponged clean.

I had intended to leave as Hilde got to work washing the blood and sick off of him, but Duo had nearly thrown another fit the moment I started walking towards the door; so instead, I sat in one of the armchairs that I’d moved to the opposite corner, face currently turned towards the wall to give him some privacy.

Privacy which Duo seemed to be completely rejecting because he had started narrating his bath.

“Why do you keep scrubbing my arm so hard? What kind of imaginary dirt do you think you’re seeing?” Duo complained, voice pitched in such a way that it was more teasing than abrasive. “The only thing you’re scrubbing off is my skin!”

“I apologize,” Hilde deadpanned.

“I’m _sick_ , you have to be nice to me!”

“I apologize.”

_“You don’t look the least bit apologetic!”_

I kept my steadfast silence. Maybe Duo forgot I was here? I didn’t want to remind him and make him uncomfortable by speaking up, so I stared resolutely into the corner as his stream of complaints continued as Hilde moved on to other body parts.

It was best I stayed in the room anyway. Until Quatre and the others identified how the Duchess had been given poison, Duo would need a constant guard. My own guards remained posted outside the bedroom doors, and currently, the only ones allowed inside my bedchambers were Trowa, Quatre, Wufei, Meilan, Hilde, Sally, and Duo’s three maids - although these latter three maids needed to have direct supervision.

Duo’s guards were also outside, although I’d heard Simon and Mikhail had gotten into an argument as soon as they’d vacated the room. I would need to deal with that soon, once we’d apprehended the person or people who had put Duo’s life in danger. I couldn’t have Duo’s guards be caught unawares just because they weren’t getting along.

“Heero, you can look now – I’m decent.”

I felt myself involuntarily twitch at Duo’s words, which served as just another reminder he’d been _indecent_ only a short few moments ago. Just thinking about his exposed skin getting sponged clean, the soft scent of lavender and honey wafting over him…

I forced myself to turn and look at Duo, hoping the image of seeing him fully dressed would chase away these more imaginative thoughts. He was fully dressed, but somehow, this only made it _worse_ ; Duo’s skin was faintly flushed, both from the sponge bath and everything before it, which left him looking more rosy-cheeked than usual. The white satin gown draped over his delicate frame, the slender hollow of his throat and collarbone all the more prominent in the warm light of the room.

I’d never seen Duo in his nightclothes before, and it was an intimate look that made him seem all the more softer and delicate. I wanted to bundle him up into my freshly-changed blankets and cocoon him away from the dangers of the world.

I remembered his blood on the sheets.

“Oh,” Duo’s head cocked in thought. “Don’t you need to change too?”

I couldn’t help staring. Did he expect me to _sleep_ _with him?_

“I believe His Grace the Duke intends to stay up tonight and keep watch,” Hilde explained without ever looking in our direction, putting away the bathing supplies as two of Duo’s maids carried out the bathwater.

Duo’s brows furrowed in confusion, “But Berion and Mifune are already outside keeping watch! Heero, you should be resting.”

Why does Duo know exactly who is perched outside the bedroom window?

“I’m fine, Duo,” I said, arms crossed over my chest. “You’re the one that needs to rest.”

Duo turned to the other corner of the room where Sally was putting together some herbs that would help alleviate some of the lingering effects of the poison; it was a different concoction than the activated charcoal drink she’d given him previously, since Duo had had such a violent reaction to drinking it.

“Sally, tell Heero he needs to get his sleep too!”

Sally made a noncommittal noise, crushing some herbs into a stone bowl. “Your Grace the Duke, you should get some sleep too,” she dutifully echoed in a droll tone.

Duo smiled at me so victoriously that I couldn’t dredge up the will to argue. I don’t know why he was so intent on me sleeping – hadn’t he wanted me here for protection purposes? – but I suppose I could entertain him by at least giving off the impression that I would do as asked. I wouldn’t actually sleep of course, but it wouldn’t hurt to pretend if it made Duo feel better.

I nodded in assent, standing and heading towards the en-suite bathing chamber. It was still chilly since I usually didn’t take my bath this early, and they hadn’t bothered heating it up for Duo to take his sponge bath in since that would have taken too long. I didn’t mind the cold that much, so I could quickly wash off and get changed into my nightclothes without issue; I’d been in worse bathing areas on the field after all.

“Eh—Where are you going?”

Duo’s clear panic stopped me in my steps. I turned and gave him what should have been a confused look, but there was no telling if my face was actually showing that. “…getting ready for bed,” I explained. “I’ll be quick.”

“Why can’t you just get ready in here?” Duo demanded. His eyes kept flickering around the room, and my heart burned at the obvious fear in his face.

“Duo, I’ll be very quick,” I tried to reassure him.

“No, it’s too cold in there!” he refuted, now trying to rise from where Hilde had left him perched on my bed. (Duo, in his _nightclothes_ , in _my bed_ …) Hilde had already left the room to personally oversee dinner preparations, and Sally was still busy crushing various herbs with her pestle and mortar.

I moved hurriedly back over to Duo to stop him from standing, and he took the opportunity to grab my wrist. “If you really need to get ready in there,” he said, looking straight into my face with burning violet eyes. “I’ll come in there with you!”

It felt like the floor vanished from right underneath me, and the only thing keeping me tenuously bound to the current moment were Duo’s fingers wrapped around the bare skin of my wrist and his amethyst-bright eyes.

“What?” The word came out so much more severe than I intended, but it was hard just trying to breathe through all the images Duo’s innocent suggestion had evoked.

“I can help you bathe!” Duo continued, and there went my ability to continue breathing.

The idea of Duo sitting beside me, gently drawing a scented washrag down my arm, fingers splayed over wet skin… His fingers running through my hair, down the nape of my neck, across my shoulders… He’d hated my scars before, but would he care for them now? Would he tenderly trace them as a lover did?

“Your Grace.”

I lashed out immediately, pulling Duo to my side and keeping him pressed close. He froze in my hold but made no sound of protest, and I consciously gentled my sudden grip on him so that it didn’t hurt. His wide violet eyes were locked onto my outstretched hand, which was still pointed in Trowa’s direction.

My old friend had quick reflexes and near-inhuman flexibility, which saved his neck from being snapped as he quickly stepped back and half-bent backward. He was quick to right himself as I halted my reflexive movement, his sudden presence having taken me by surprise.

“Your Grace, I came to report that we’ve found out what kind of poison was used,” Trowa stated with his customarily-bland tone, as if I tried to break his neck every day and twice on the weekends. I usually appreciate his generally unruffled nature but sometimes it came across as passive-aggressive, especially if Duo was around.

I glared at him in annoyance. “How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me?” He knows I hate it when he does that, and he was one of the very few who _could_.

“I always thought you enjoyed the surprise,” Trowa lied, voice dry as ever.

I ignored him, instead focusing back on Duo as I stopped pinning him to my side. He didn’t seem very bothered by Trowa’s abrupt appearance, hardly taking more than just a single step away from me as if he was worried I’d suddenly disappear into the bathing chamber like I’d intended. I stopped myself from reaching out to touch him, quite aware that I’d taken enough liberties tonight.

I looked back to Trowa. “Report,” I ordered him curtly.

“It’s chrysomallus,” Trowa stated. “ _The Aries._ It was slipped into the Duchess’s tea.”

A poetic name for one of the deadliest poisons on the continent. It was taken from a golden-petaled flower known as the Golden Fleece, which was dried and ground down into a fine powder. The powder had a subtle taste but tended to thicken whatever liquid it was put in, which had forced those who used it to slip it into syrups to disguise it. It did not require much to be fatal to humans; little more than the size of a pea was considered a lethal dose.

“I know a little about it,” Sally interjected with a frown, her eyes now scouring Duo intently. “Death usually occurs within the first six hours.”

“You are just a _fountain_ of optimism,” Duo grumbled quietly.

Trowa just nodded at Sally’s words. “If left untreated, the victim will experience severe stomach pains, nausea and vomiting, partial to complete blindness, fever, and confusion,” he added. I wondered which of them had volunteered to ingest some; given the amount of time Trowa and Quatre had been absent, and now Wufei, it really could have been any one of them. They didn’t require that much recovery time, especially against poisons.

“I guess I got lucky!” Duo chirped brightly. “I don’t really have any of that anymore.”

Sally marched over and shoved an herbal-smelling drink into his hands. “It’s still better to be cautious. I’ll monitor you tonight to ensure that the toxins have been taken care of,” she said with a chilly look when Duo opened his mouth with an argumentative gleam in his eyes.

“Even if it was a small amount, it’s better to be safe, Duo,” I added in support.

Trowa’s eyes were boring into a spot just past Duo’s slender right shoulder. “We were fortunate that you only ingested a small amount, Your Grace,” he said, passive-aggressiveness shining through in full form.

I glared at him. I wouldn’t say anything, as usually Trowa’s quietly snide remarks tended to slip under Duo’s notice, and bringing it up surely wouldn’t end well, but it still irked me. I understood the resentment my friends (and some of the servants) had for my husband, and knew that it came from a place of love and respect for me – but that didn’t make it any less aggravating.

Duo didn’t say anything, Trowa’s unsaid words clearly flying over his head as he downed Sally’s concoction in three large swallows. I watched his throat bob with the motion, entranced for a second, but then Duo was handing the cup back to Sally and a single drop of the herbal remedy escaped from the corner of his plump lips and down to his chin before he absently wiped it away.

Trowa stepped on my foot.

“Duo, you should rest,” I said, jolted abruptly out of my wayward thoughts. A displeased frown flitted across Duo’s pink lips, but before he could argue, I continued. “Commander Barton can sit with you while I change.”

It was almost funny that the exact same expression of betrayal flashed across both of their faces, although credit went to Trowa for smothering it quickly under professional indifference. This was the best compromise I could think of at the moment; I trusted Trowa with my life and knew that he would do his damnedest to protect Duo, even if he didn’t much like him.

“I think Commander Barton is busy, Heero,” Duo said hollowly.

Trowa rose an eyebrow, although he kept his gaze pointed in the opposite direction. “Commander Barton agrees with the Duchess’s observation,” he intoned dully.

“The Duchess appreciates Commander Barton’s honesty.”

“…Commander Barton thanks the Duchess for his thoughtfulness.”

_What_ were they doing? “Stop speaking in the third person,” I told Trowa gruffly.

“…” Trowa stared at me.

Duo pouted. “The Duke should just change in here,” he reiterated.

_Don’t include me in the third person!_

I was saved from responding to that – or trying to respond to that – as there was a polite knock on my bedroom door. After I’d called out permission to enter, Quatre pushed open the door and stepped through. He’d changed outfits from what he wore earlier today, and though he looked perfectly fine, I could tell he seemed faintly paler than usual.

“Quatre,” Trowa called out, monotone echoing vaguely with admonishment. He obviously didn’t like that his lover was already moving up and about; I understood the sentiment, but we both knew that no one could keep Quatre from doing what he thinks needs to be done.

“Quatre!” Duo called out with much more exuberance, immediately releasing my wrist in order to rush towards the blonde. (I ignored the spike of disappointment at how quickly Duo had turned his attention away from me.) Quatre hurried to meet my husband, concern clear on his face as he grabbed Duo’s forearms.

“Your Grace, you should be resting,” he chided, already leading Duo back over to the bed.

Duo laughed softly. “I’m fine – I’m feeling much better now! I think I just needed to throw it back up is all.”

“That’s not how poisoning works, Your Grace,” Sally chimed in.

I turned back to Trowa as Duo began to argue with the woman. “Did you find the perpetrator?” I asked him quietly so that I didn’t garner Duo’s attention.

Trowa shook his head subtly. “Quatre identified the poison after drinking some of the Duchess’s tea,” he explained. “Recovery took thirty minutes.”

Thirty minutes. That was longer than usual for us, but that just meant the Aries was a more lethal poison. Quatre would have undergone all of the same symptoms as Duo in a shorter span of time, but whereas Duo had to swallow activated charcoal to battle the effects, Sandrock would have neutralized the poison and forced out the toxin.

“Lady Meilan and Howard are investigating the kitchen staff,” Trowa relayed to me. A fair choice, as they would have recognized all of the usual servants given that they’d remained in the estate for the past year. “Wufei is going through the guards and the other estate servants who had access to the tea.”

I should have been out there with Wufei, but I wouldn’t leave Duo after he’d asked me to stay. _Well_ , my eyes moved back to my husband. _He’d wanted me to stay until Quatre had arrived._

“Don’t take your jealousy out on my husband, Your Grace,” Trowa snarked at me quietly.

I snorted, turning around and entering the bathing chamber while Duo was distracted. I usually did my bathing by myself, having never gotten quite used to being washed by servants even after all of these years. The number of attempted assassinations I’d been subjected to when I was first revealed as the heir to the Yuy duchy had hardly made it better.

The water was nearly ice-cold as I quickly and thoroughly washed myself, but the chill hardly bothered me. Once I’d been thoroughly scrubbed down, I took down the small jar of sandalwood oil and lightly dabbed some on both wrists and under both my ears. After it quickly dried, I pulled on my nightclothes and padded quietly out of the bathing room.

Trowa had already left but Quatre stayed behind, sitting in a chair beside my bed and speaking softly with the Duchess. Duo was thankfully in the bed, but he was sitting cross-legged and gesturing animatedly as he spoke, clearly telling Quatre about the strange black bird that had burst through the window earlier.

“Hilde dragged it out though,” Duo frowned. “What do you think she did with it?”

“It sounded like it was badly injured. They’ll have to put it down, out of mercy,” Quatre replied.

Hilde eventually rolled in with a cart of food, Quatre electing to stay to eat since Duo seemed to relax more in his presence. It went without saying that the food had all been tested for poison, but even so, Sally had restricted Duo to consommé and a simple bread roll.

It was still quite early in the evening, and despite everything that he’d been put through, Duo did not seem the least bit tired. He complained a bit more about being put on bedrest _(“Can’t I at least jog in place?” “No._ ”), then would try to inch his way out of bed the moment any of us looked away from him.

I sat in an armchair positioned closer to the fireplace, trying not to look in the direction of the bed too obviously. Quatre had just finished his evening cup of coffee when Hilde returned once again, this time coming in with a stack of papers bound with leather string.

“My notebook!” Duo cried out happily.

“Since the Duchess seems inclined to staying up for a while longer,” Hilde said, although with the way her eyes drilled into Duo, it was clear she was not exactly happy that he refused to sleep. “It seemed prudent to bring you something to share with the Duke.”

I perked up.

“Oh, good idea, Hilde!” Duo thanked her, taking the proffered book and then looking over to me with clear excitement. I stood and walked over, drawn more by his expression than anything else, and then froze briefly as Quatre stood from the chair next to the bed. He patted me encouragingly on the shoulder as he passed, bidding us a cheerful _“goodnight!”_ before he left the room, Hilde shadowing his steps.

Sally, the only other person present in the room now, had taken over my bedchamber’s sole desk and was busy scrawling out…something… in the light of her table lantern, her back to us and clearly refusing to take part in whatever was happening on our side of the room. For all intents and purposes, Duo and I had been left alone.

“I planned to talk to you about this a bit later,” Duo began, flipping through the leather-bound pages that seemed to be filled with sketches of things I couldn’t quite identify. “I have some small-scale models in my study if you want to see them in action, but I can give you a little overview!”

I stared down at the pages. It was a _very thick_ stack of papers.

Duo beamed at me, apparently taking encouragement from my silence. It took a moment to see past the way excitement highlighted his delicately beautiful features, plush lips stretched into an expression so inviting and interested that I wanted to lean just a bit forward to see if I could catch some of that warmth.

“So, let’s start with the steam engine!”

…was he going to discuss _engineering_ with me?

* * *

It turned out Duo could talk about engineering for hours. _Uninterrupted_.

I’d heard a little bit about this from Quatre when I first came back, and had wondered why he seemed a little glassy-eyed when he recounted his own engineering discussion with the Duchess. Hilde had not said much about Duo’s newfound passion, although she did look a little more aggravated than her usual – but I had just attributed that to her usual attitude regarding Duo.

I had some background in engineering, at least as much as was needed to run an effective military force. I knew how to use the machines and weaponry our military engineers crafted, and it didn’t take me long to make them myself – but it was not a passion, it didn’t drive me to invent more, especially technology that didn’t serve a military purpose.

Duo’s words from before came to mind: _do I want to turn every child in this province into a soldier?_

For Duo to come up with the ideas he had – not just his orphanage reformation proposal, but also these new technologies that have little to nothing to do with our military – showed that he was thinking more about the future, idealistic though it may be. (I struggled to think of the last time there was peace on the continent. The war between Sanc, Lagrange, Oz, and Romefeller seemed endless.) He was not concerned with weapons development, but rather with the development of our land and people.

The steam engine was already being proliferated throughout the coastal towns of our duchy; it wouldn’t take long for the technology to reach the other provinces. It wasn’t limited to steamboats anymore, these engines tweaked to fit the desired context: pumping out water from underground mines, and now, possible use across land to speed up transport of both goods and people.

Duo had gone over the schematics for the locomotive, a caravan that ran on steam and coal rather than horses, pulled along tracks at consistent speeds that would turn a normally week-long journey to only a couple days. If tracks could be run across the entire province, travel times would be cut down to a fraction of what they currently were; if we popularized it across the entire kingdom, trade would see an economic boost.

It wasn’t just these engine-based technologies that Duo had gone over – there were other things, smaller in scale but no less significant. He’d gone on and on about lights, something he referred to as ‘electricity’ that in his haste to explain, I could only understand that it did not involve fire and oil.

He also went over the different things he’d been slowly pushing into the town market: a writing instrument that held an ink cartridge on the inside, an improved distillation process that had made whiskey and bourbon possible, the band-aid Duo had argued with Meilan about, hair care products, new-age perfumes based on oils rather than scented satchels.

A multitude of ideas, all centered around the theme of improving the daily life of the people of our duchy – not for war, but just for the people.

Some of the ideas flew past me, Duo too lost to his own zeal to properly explain the finer details, and I didn’t want to interrupt him out of my own ignorance and dampen his spirited mood. Duo was breathtaking in his passion: his eyes, glazed and in pain only a few short hours ago, were wide with excitement as he jumped from one idea to the next; his long, chestnut-hued hair tumbled over one slender shoulder in a loose braid, bangs framing the gently-illuminated heart-shaped face; his slender body looked soft draped in his sleepwear, his small form seemingly swallowed within the sheets of my bed.

It was only as the light from the tableside lantern began to wane that Duo finally seemed to wind down. Sally had long extinguished her own desklight, laid out on her corner cot and seemingly asleep. Duo closed his leather-bound work – his ‘notebook’ – and I took it from him to place at the bedside table. His wide violet eyes tracked my movement, and then inexplicably, he shifted over on the bed so that he put more space between us.

I didn’t let it hurt me. Even with the attempt on his life and his plea for me to stay with him, I knew that did not mean he intended to sleep so close beside me. Whatever minuscule amount of room he could put between us – him on the bed, me in the chair beside it – was expected.

What wasn’t expected was the confused expression on his face when I re-took my seat. _Did he want me to sit back in the lounge area?_

“Heero,” Duo began, bemusement heavy in his tone. “What’re doing? Aren’t you going to sleep?”

Ah, his obsession with me sleeping. I don’t know why amnesia made Duo so concerned with my sleeping habits. “Don’t worry, I’ll sleep,” I told him.

Duo stared at me.

I stared back.

“…Then why aren’t you getting in the bed?”

I felt the floor drop out from under me, for what had to be the fifth time today. “…what do you mean?” I managed out of a dry throat. _Surely not--?!_

Duo patted the spot beside him in bed, and what felt like my heart joined wherever the flooring had gone. “Come on in. I promise I didn’t vomit on this side,” he remarked with dry amusement.

I didn’t move. Both the reminder of his blood on my sheets – of _how close_ Duo had come to dying – combined with the current situation did nothing to help my mental state. Duo got tired of encouragingly patting the empty spot beside him, now moving to sit up; the bedsheets pooled around his slender waist, seemingly swallowing up his small form that looked all the more delicate in the firelight.

I found myself immediately moving back up to my feet and then on to the bed, all to make sure Duo wasn’t moving around unnecessarily when he should be resting.

Why was it so hard to get Duo to rest?!

“Lay back down,” I snapped at him, the tone I used with my men slipping out unintentionally. I felt my own facial features stiffen; I hated speaking like that to Duo, and it only ever seemed to happen at the worst times. Duo used to flinch at the tone, but his contempt for me served as a rallying point for his courage, and he’d usually snap back before storming out. It had made the few discussions we did have very tense, no matter how short the duration.

The Duo now, however, just waved a negligent hand at me and scooted back under the covers, practically cocooned under the sheets. He’d turned to face me, peering up with a smug, victorious grin – as if he was _satisfied_ that I’d crawled into bed with him. As if he _wanted_ me here.

I laid flat on my back, feeling stiff and awkward in my own bed, eyes locked on the canopy above us. The fireplace illumination cast jumping shadows across the canopy and ceiling, and my eyes trailed these fleeting images just so I wouldn’t give in to the urge to look at Duo instead; me staring at him would hardly help him get comfortable enough to sleep.

Which seemed like a waste of effort when I felt a single tap on my arm. “Hey Heero,” Duo said, a tad quieter than his normal volume – was he being considerate because Sally was sleeping, or because I was so close to him? “You know none of this is your fault, right?”

I turned my head to stare at him, and forcibly stopped myself from moving more than that at just how close he’d gotten – I hadn’t even felt him move. But he was laying only a hand’s span away, and now that I turned to face him, I could feel the warmth of his body heat so close to mine.

I didn’t say anything, so shocked by our proximity. Duo took this as his cue to continue, “Not just the poisoning, I mean _everything_. The greenhouse fire, the amnesia, everything afterwards… None of it was anyone’s fault but mine.”

I wish I could have this conversation with at least a desk between us, because having to look into Duo’s brilliantly purple eyes as his breath ghosted over me with every word was more than distracting. “Duo,” I managed out. “I am responsible for keeping you safe. That I failed to do so—”

Duo slapped a hand over my mouth.

I didn’t dare open my mouth and risk my tongue touching his skin if I tried to speak. Duo, ignorant of the derailment of my thoughts, sighed explosively. “I knew you would think like that! You have such a hero complex!”

I stared at him. _A complex?_

With his free hand, he pointed a finger in my face. “You have to stop blaming yourself for every little thing that goes wrong, especially when it comes to me! How the hell would you know that I would set the greenhouse on fire and nearly kill myself?”

I said nothing because his hand was still over my mouth.

“Or that I’d go hiking and run into some bandits? Or that Ishigaki’s governor was a piece of shit? Or even that the Bluefield Orphanage was run by some greedy asshole and her hatchet-wielding sidepiece?”

_Where_ was Duo picking up this vocabulary?

“The point is, I don’t expect you to be omnipotent. I might run into some trouble with human traffickers or weirdoes in churches, but it’s really not anyone’s fault but my own.”

…What was that about weirdoes in churches?

“So you need to stop trying to take the blame for everything. I make my own choices too, Heero,” Duo finished, and then finally removed his hand from my mouth.

I took a moment to breathe and wet my lips; the scent of honey and lavender was soft against my tongue, the lingering aftertaste of Duo’s touch. Violet eyes bored into my own the entire time, as if he were waiting for my agreement with his words.

But I didn’t agree, at least to a certain degree. Duo’s autonomy had always been something very important to him, although before where he would lash out any time he felt restricted, now it seemed to have translated through his amnesia as accountability for his choices. It was such an odd change; Duo used to mock me for my attempts at hiding the fallout for some of his choices, such as his affairs or the verbal abuse he used to heap on the servants, as if it was amusing that I’d try to keep his name as clean as possible in the Sanc Court.

I knew exactly how dirty my own name was in that same social circle, all because of the blood in my veins and on my hands. I just wanted to keep Duo separate from all of what marriage to me entailed – but to Duo, that had seemed laughable.

_Duo had been right._

But I didn’t think he was right now. I may not have known about any of the underlying issues that he’d inadvertently stumbled upon in my absence, but _I should have:_ I should have known about the bandits around Aoba-ku, about the corruption in Ishigaki and the provincial capital orphanages, about the human trafficking ring. I should have mandated a guard around Duo at all times, even if he was just visiting the estate greenhouse. There were so many pre-emptive measures I could have taken, so many things I should have known about before and dealt with immediately; but instead, I’d left Duo alone and in danger, all through my own incompetence.

“I,” _should have known better_. “Need to strengthen our forces.”

Duo frowned at me. I could see him internally chew through my answer, a long moment where his gaze weighed heavier on me than any suit of armor. Instead of speaking immediately, he let out a small sigh, followed by a long-suffering smile – as if he was unsurprised by my response but didn’t have the energy to argue it now.

“Actually, you _need_ to sleep,” he corrected me, tone light and teasing. It sent a tingle down my spine, the interaction so at odds with what I was used to. Duo never teased – he _taunted_.

I turned my gaze back up to the canopy. “Goodnight,” I managed out of a dry throat.

“Sweet dreams,” he cooed to me softly.

He did not move away.

* * *

“Did you get _any_ sleep?”

I stared balefully at Quatre, wishing not for the first time that I had nicer friends. My friends were definitely kind and good people – they were also just _complete assholes._

Quatre knew damn well how little sleep I would get last night, sharing the same bed with Duo and already more than paranoid after the poisoning attempt. Duo, who had slept sweetly and soundly all night laid out right beside me, had been close enough that I could hear his soft exhales and feel his body heat. At some point, his hand had landed on my arm and clutched at my sleeve the entire night, as if even subconsciously, he was worried I’d leave him.

I’d woken up early from what little sleep I did get, although Duo was not far behind even then. He’d sat up in bed, yawning and sleep-soft, and it took forever to tear my eyes off of him. I’d only just managed to do so as Sally came bustling up to the bed, another detox drink pushed into Duo’s hands as she checked him over.

It was only after Duo was given a clean bill of health ( _“You’re almost **too** healthy,”_ Sally had said with narrowed eyes) and Meilan had arrived that I left Duo’s general vicinity, quickly getting ready and leaving the room. Breakfast was to be taken separately today; Duo and Meilan would take it in my bedroom, as Duo was still on bedrest for the rest of the day, while I took it in my study with the others.

“Well _I_ certainly didn’t,” Wufei scowled. True to our conditions though, it hardly showed; generally, we wouldn’t suffer any of the negative symptoms until at least 72 hours had passed without sleep. The current record was kept by Quatre, who’d managed an astonishing 8 days before he just collapsed. Trowa had _not_ been amused. “Despite how much we know about the Aries symptoms and origins, a fully effective cure has yet to be developed.”

The Aries was renowned for its utility; it was subtle despite the thickening effect and could easily be slipped into drink or confection. However, the Golden Fleece – the flower used to make it – were rare and hard to find, and even now only grew in one part of the continent.

_Romefeller_.

“We were unable to locate who poisoned the tea,” Trowa recounted in cool tones. “Our best guess is a Romefeller spy who slipped in with our returning forces. Chef Morris has restricted access to the kitchens now and has chosen to only keep the staff who have already been serving the Duchess for the past year.”

That would keep access more restricted, especially while Trowa and Broden combed through the returning forces and looked for any unfamiliar faces. Despite the contempt some of the guards and soldiers had for the Duchess, they were unlikely to have poisoned him; being able to get the Aries poison would be difficult even for me, let alone the common soldier.

“It’s also difficult to tell if they were targeting the Duchess specifically, or if they were hoping to poison the Duke as well,” Trowa continued. Assassinating the Duchess would have served as a threat and was something common when it came to Sanc’s relationship with her neighbors; if they could poison the man who also led the opposing forces, all the better.

But Duo being not only the Duchess of the Yuy province but also the second son of Duke Maxwell makes him a prime target. It may not be common knowledge, but we could never entirely discount the fact that perhaps some higher-ups in Romefeller and Oz knew exactly who the Maxwell's were and what purpose they actually served in Sanc.

“Does the poison have any permanent effects?” I asked, looking to Wufei. He was the one who had spent the entire night looking into the Aries poison, tasked with finding some way to either cure it or alleviate the symptoms enough so that Duo could recover naturally; Sally, as our primary doctor, was tasked with the more immediate concern of making sure Duo just survived the night.

Wufei scowled. “So far, it looks like the only permanent effect is death,” he replied shortly. “There’s no cure and no means to alleviate symptoms. Activated charcoal supposedly makes it worse.”

I stiffened, knuckles turning white from how hard I’d clenched my hands together atop the desk. “Worse?” I echoed, remembering very well what we’d force-fed Duo the night prior.

I remembered how he’d begged me to stop.

“Not exactly _worse_ ,” Wufei corrected himself, too proud to wince at his poorly-chosen words. “It generally has no effect on the Aries, although in a small number of cases, it has been known to…speed up the process.”

It was only the fact that Sally had already checked Duo over that kept me in my seat. Duo himself had looked unbothered; perhaps a bit peakier, but he’d reported no pains or discomfort, even as he’d started doing some weird stretches after climbing out of bed this morning. The Aries was known for its speed, but once the victim hit that downhill, they never perked up.

“If the Duchess is already up and moving around afterwards, then he’s already overcome it,” Wufei continued, clearly meaning to console me in his usual taciturn way.

Here, he paused and glowered at some indistinct spot in thought. “Actually, the fact that he’s recovered so quickly is _more_ concerning to me,” he said. “Even those who had recovered from Aries poisoning – usually because they had only ingested an extremely small amount – still took several days to recover.”

Wufei’s words and eyes were equally sharp as he spoke, “It took the Duchess _less than three hours.”_

His statement hung heavy in the air. Quatre was one thing; whether it was internal or external injuries, poison or just plain lethargy – our bodies were different. When it came to recovery and healing, we kept it between us as much as we could; whispers and rumors, while damaging, were still not as damning as actual confirmation. The fact that I'd once taken a spear to the gut and was walking around less than an hour later was information that would have terrified not only our enemies, but also our allies.

So if Quatre recovered from the Aries in a short amount of time, that was one thing. _But for Duo…_

“The Duchess is still a Maxwell,” Quatre pointed out. “It wouldn't be strange for a dandy from a prominent family like the Maxwell’s to have been trained at least a little in poison resistance.”

Wufei’s scowl deepened. “Aconite and baneberry are one thing, but _the Aries?”_

“If anyone in Sanc would have access to chrysomallus, it would be Duke Maxwell,” Trowa returned.

That opened up another branch of thought that I felt more comfortable in discarding. It made no logical sense for Duke Maxwell to poison his own son, even if he had the means; the subtle threats he’d issued me when I’d been courting Duo had not been just hot air. For him to be so obsessed with his child’s safety and then to turn around and try to kill Duo didn’t make any sense.

But Solo Maxwell, as the Maxwell heir, would have that same access, wouldn’t he?

_…Would Solo Maxwell kill his own little brother?_

I never understood Duo’s relationship with his family, especially with his brother; the way Duo regarded his immediate family and the way those same family members spoke about Duo were so at odds, it was almost as if they were speaking about different people. I had sat at the same table with all three of them at one point, and not once had they ever even looked each other in the eyes. The Maxwell's were a family where the more you questioned them, the less sense they made.

Then again, it had been made clear to me from the very start that Duo was strange, _even for a Maxwell._

“The Duchess will have around-the-clock guard,” I decided. “Notify Simon immediately.”

Whether it was Romefeller, Oz, or a threat much closer to home – I wouldn’t allow Duo to be put in danger once again.

* * *

**A/N** : Amazing how many weird things Duo can get away with because of amnesia and _‘idk my family is just really fucking weird’_ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

> **Heero** : what does he want from me?!
> 
> **Duo @ Heero** : _pspspsps_

New additions have also been made to the fanart corner! Cuteciboulette fashioned Duo's actual wedding ring (with some alterations due to reality lol) that came out beautifully, and Duointherain made some stunning 3D art!

_Please be kind and **drop a comment and kudos!**_ **:)**


	24. Arc II, Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Duchess Guard is having a grand time.

**A/N** : Our time in the Yuy province is drawing to a close, everyone... Enjoy these next few chapters while you can. 😀

* * *

**Chapter 24**

* * *

Being part of the Duchess Guard was far more stressful than anticipated.

Captain Mikhail – now _Vice_ -Captain Mikhail – had not sugarcoated the assignment once Sherry and her cohort had been inducted; in fact, he and the rest of the old Duchess Guard had gone to great lengths to explain what exactly the job entailed and the expectations, to an almost unsettling degree. Sherry didn’t think she’d ever forget the look on Sir Asahi’s face as he described the training regimen that Acting Commander Broden had instilled for them.

This was all before the return of the Duke though.

Now, they were working under Captain Simon – who, while being someone she greatly admired and respected, also didn’t seem nearly as invested in his assignment as Captain Mikhail had been. This had caused something of a rift within the Duchess Guard: there was the original guard, over which Captain Mikhail had been overseeing; the new guard, made up of Captain Simon’s men that had returned from the expedition; and then there was the new cohort, of which Sherry was part of that had only just been inducted into the Duchess Guard.

“Two guards are _more_ than enough,” Captain Simon reiterated with almost patronizing calm.

Vice-Captain Mikhail, seated across the table from the man, cocked an eyebrow. “Hmm,” was his only response, and the amount of judgment he managed to squeeze into that single syllable was awe-inspiring.

Sherry kept her eyes fastened determinedly on her sword, obsessively polishing it so that she didn’t have to bear witness to the tension. Next to her were her fellows, Chiaki and Souta, who were also polishing their swords. Theodore, having long finished with his sword, had now moved on to polishing the doorknob.

“The Duchess is literally inside the estate at all times,” Captain Simon continued with exasperation. “Sir Mikhail – for what reason does he need _five guards_ following him around in the Duke’s home?”

Sir Mifune, leaned against the far wall, made a quiet scoffing sound. “At all times?” she echoed dubiously.

Vice-Captain Mikhail looked equally annoyed. “The _Duke’s_ home?” he repeated sourly. “It is the home of the Duchess as well, and he is entitled to his safety.”

Sir Takeo, sat nearby, snorted. “The Duchess certainly is _entitled_ ,” he agreed with mocking derision.

Sherry knew that was quite possibly the worst thing he could have said at the moment, and this fact was further cemented when Sir Berion chucked a dagger at him. The blade pierced through the wall next to Sir Takeo’s head with a ringing threat, one that had Sir Takeo jumping to his feet and unsheathing his sword.

“Takeo, Berion - _not_ again!” Captain Simon snapped out, head swiveling to pin the two men with a virulent glare.

Sir Takeo pointed to the dagger in outrage. “He keeps _throwing things_ at me!”

“And yet your _fool head_ is still attached to your neck,” Sir Berion said with palpable hostility.

Captain Simon ignored them, turning back to give Vice-Captain Mikhail another exasperated frown. Sherry could admit that she felt a little bad for Captain Simon; he was well-liked among the soldiers and his skills had even garnered him the respect of the Duke, a feat rarer than expected. When he’d left for the barbarian territories with the majority of their force, the Duchess Guard was a chore assigned to only two soldiers for a week’s rotation; now upon his return, it was a full-stacked guard with a training regimen that he’d thought was Commander Broden’s idea of a joke.

Sherry, who still couldn’t quite shake the ghost feeling of porcupine quills stabbed into her skin, _wished_ it had been a joke.

Vice-Captain Mikhail was no slack either; much like Captain Simon, he was well-liked and respected, and in one-to-one combat, would definitely give Captain Simon a run for his money. He wasn’t overly-ambitious or prideful either; so whether he lead the guards or answered to someone else, he had never been trouble before.

Now that the Duchess’s safety was in question, though, Vice-Captain Mikhail’s obvious discontent with Captain Simon’s rule was causing tension within the ranks. If Sherry was being honest, it almost felt like they were caught in a lover's spat.

“Per the Duke’s order, the Duchess will have guards posted by whichever room His Grace occupies. Two guards will be with him at all times and we will rotate every six hours,” Captain Simon continued doggedly, trying to sound reasonable. Sherry almost wanted to tell him not to bother because both Reason and Logic had deserted the Yuy estate the moment the Duchess had invented whiskey. “Commander Barton has already found poison testers for all of the Duchess’s meals, so unless you expect us to cling to his windowsill or the rafters, the Duchess is as safe as can be.”

Sherry wondered if Captain Simon and the new guards could climb walls in full suits of armor. Given the way they had dismissed the revised training regimen, she doubted it – but it seemed like a bad idea to point out that Vice-Captain Mikhail and the rest of the old guards could. They were competitive enough already without adding that to the mix.

They were lucky enough today that some of Vice-Captain Mikhail’s men were not present; Sir Sayaka was paired with one of Simon’s men for guard duty and Sir Lyle was off, likely spending time with some of the orphans who were working in the estate in the Duchess’s pathway program. Sherry knew that the usually-jovial knight liked to check and make sure the kids were doing okay in their work, and that he had been especially worried about the boy working in the estate kitchen after the Duchess had been poisoned.

In some ways, Sherry could understand the original Duchess Guard’s frustration with Captain Simon’s group; between the misadventures the Duchess had been on, to the orphanage pathway program he’d developed, to the technological innovations he promoted – it was clear to Sherry that the Duchess had changed significantly from the man he’d been before the Duke left.

Sherry had been only another common soldier before Duke Yuy left on the expedition, so after the Duchess had survived the incident of the greenhouse fire _(and developed amnesia! Which she only learned about after she’d been inducted into the Duchess guard)_ , she’d heard about the Duchess’s changes and feats after they’d already passed.

Vice-Captain Mikhail and the others, however, had gotten a front-row seat. They’d been so impressed by the Duchess that it almost seemed like they’d sworn their loyalty to him rather than to Duke Yuy, although Sherry knew better than to say so out loud. They still respected the Duke, of course – but only the Duchess seemed to have their fanatical devotion.

But Sherry could understand that. She’d spoken a bit with Honoka’s page, a young girl named Lianna who had come from Sir Lyle’s orphanage; her boyfriend was another orphan who worked in the estate kitchen and was involved in the Bluefield Orphanage incident. Both only had glowing things to say about the Duchess, who had apparently saved the boy and some other young kids from a grisly fate.

So when the Duke came back and put Captain Simon in charge of the Duchess Guard, this had obviously ruffled feathers. Captain Simon knew the Duchess as he’d been a year ago; Vice-Captain Mikhail knew the Duchess as he was today.

Honestly, the fighting seemed inevitable. 

“ _Safe as can be_ ,” Vice-Captain Mikhail echoed with deadly calm. “If you consider being _poisoned_ a decent amount of safety, I can see where the confusion may lie.”

“Mikhail, _you--!”_

Sherry edged closer to Sir Mifune, who had been watching the entire scene in fascination, as the Captain and Vice-Captain got embroiled in another argument. Out of all of the guards present, Sir Mifune had to be one of the quietest; she never really got into any debates with the new guards but was still just as terrifying as the other original guards. She also seemed oddly preoccupied with things that Sherry had never heard about outside of fairytales, but after stumbling upon Sir Mifune feverishly piecing together one of the Duchess’s altars to the Harvester, Sherry decided to stop questioning her.

“How long do you think they’re going to fight?” Sherry couldn’t help but ask.

Sir Mifune hummed in thought. “If we factor in Mikhail’s paranoia when it comes to the Duchess and Captain Simon’s stubborn ignorance… and combine that with the frankly disturbing level of unresolved sexual tension between them…” she frowned in thought. “Maybe another three hours?”

Sherry swallowed down a despondent groan. She hadn’t even known it could be worse, but now that Sir Mifune had pointed it out – Captain Simon _did_ look more than a little hurt by Vice-Captain Mikhail’s defiance, moreso than what would be expected. _And now I can’t un-see it,_ she thought bleakly.

“—the Duchess is a homebody—”

“—we _wish_ His Grace the Duchess was a homebody—”

Sir Mifune’s translation: _“I want **your** body_.”

“— _NO ONE_ IS FIGHTING A BEAR—”

“—IF YOU’RE SO SCARED YOU CAN _CRAWL BACK TO YOUR_ —”

Sir Mifune’s translation: _“Hold me in your sexy, well-muscled arms.”_

“This is _so_ much worse,” Sherry mumbled.

Sir Asahi, stood nearby, patted her on the head. “You’ve seen nothing yet,” he said, eyes far away as his mind turned to some (likely traumatizing) memory. “But only a wall could understand that.”

“I can’t believe I thought you were normal, Sir Asahi.”

Well, Sir Asahi was arguably the _most_ normal out of all of the original Duchess Guard. He was usually pretty laid-back and easy to talk to, but despite his rather lax behavior, he was still more than able to keep up with the insane training regimen they had been put under before Captain Simon’s command. As far as Sherry knew, he was also the only one that had been allowed to guard the Duchess alone; they usually operated in groups of 2 to 5 people, but Sir Asahi had sometimes been assigned alone.

Maybe because he was one of the few the Duke trusted with the Duchess, even long before the greenhouse incident? Most of the soldiers and knights that made up their force were from the Yuy province, though it wasn’t too unusual to have those who came from other Sanc provinces or even foreign territories. Sir Asahi was one of the few that hailed from the Maxwell province, so the Duke must have trusted him to care about the Duchess’s safety, even when the Duchess had been plainly awful.

It was in hour two of the Captain and Vice-Captain’s debate over guard rotations that Commander Barton finally walked in. The Duchess Guard was generally independent, although they took training orders from Acting Commander Broden in the Duke’s absence, and upon his return, they now fell under Commander Barton’s command once more.

Sherry rather liked Commander Barton; he was on the quieter side, but he was generally very understanding of the soldiers and rumor had it that he had a soft spot for animals, so despite being foreign-born, he was still widely trusted and respected. None of that had lessened while he’d been away on the expedition, but…

But, well, it was no secret that he wasn’t fond of the Duchess – and that hadn’t lessened while he’d been away either.

“The Duke noticed there’s been some in-fighting,” Commander Barton stated without preamble, after everyone had jumped to attention. “What is it.”

Another not-so-fun quirk of Commander Barton was that his every question was phrased more like a demand. It was still better than getting yelled at by Master Chang, though, so Sherry just counted her blessings.

“Just minor disagreements, Commander,” Captain Simon was quick to respond, obviously intent on pretending Commander Barton hadn’t just walked in on him screaming at the Vice-Captain about wall-climbing. Sherry was touched – and a little weirded out – by his loyalty and determination not to throw Sir Mikhail under the carriage. “It is of no matter, we’ve come to an agreement.”

Commander Barton rose a skeptical eyebrow. Vice-Captain Mikhail, to his credit, just remained at attention with a completely blank face, giving nothing away.

“…Very well,” Commander Barton kindly let it slide, turning to look at Mikhail. His expression never really changed from tacit calm, even when enraged, but Sherry got the feeling that if Commander Barton was capable of expressing more emotion than a placid lake, in this moment it would have been dry condescension. “Mikhail – remember that you are subject to Simon’s command now. The safety of the Duchess is in good hands.”

Vice-Captain Mikhail inclined his head in understanding, but unlike the flat set of his mouth, his eyes burned. “With all due respect, Commander – I find myself more in agreement with Master Winner than yourself, sir.”

Captain Simon let out a choked gasp.

In contrast, Commander Barton just stared at Sir Mikhail for a long moment before turning away without a word and walking out. There was nothing hurried or snappish in his steps, his movements as measured as ever, but somehow Sherry felt terror sweep down her spine anyway.

It was only after they were sure that the Commander was long gone that Captain Simon swiveled to glare at his Vice-Captain. “You’re even going to fight with _the_ _Commander?!”_ he snapped.

Vice-Captain Mikhail snorted. “If I dared, I’d be dead,” he retorted. “There’s nothing wrong with a little healthy disagreement.”

“You dragged in Master Winner!”

“Master Winner has been vocal about his opinion on the Duchess and his safety,” Vice-Captain Mikhail replied.

Master Winner was, of course, another big fan of the Duchess. Sherry hadn’t noticed any discord in his relationship with Commander Barton as a result of this newfound adoration, but then again, it’s not like she obsessed over other people’s relationships like certain other people in this estate. She had heard more than enough from the Duchess’s maid Coralina.

“Here they go again,” Sir Mifune murmured in interest.

Sherry put her head down on the table in defeat. Maybe if she was lucky enough, the Commander would decide he was fed up with their antics and kill them all.

* * *

**A/N** : We're not getting Mikhail’s POV yet 😂 We just got these ‘C’ chapters started!

_Please be kind and **drop a comment and kudos!**_ **:)**

**Author's Note:**

> Fanart Corner:
> 
> **Duo (from Chapter 1)** , by [krispyllamas](https://krispyllamas.tumblr.com/): [Link](https://krispyllamas.tumblr.com/post/628264920512954368/dandy-duo-yeah-i-fuck-with-that-i-hound-this)
> 
> **Duo & Quatre (from Chapter 14)**, by [krispyllamas](https://krispyllamas.tumblr.com/): [Link](https://krispyllamas.tumblr.com/post/628291060067696640/yo-bitch-fucking-run-from-thaiteaaddicts-i)
> 
> **Duo (from Chapter 19)** , by menoue: [Link](https://imgur.com/C6IeOeK)
> 
> **Duo's Wedding Ring** , by [cuteciboulette](https://cuteciboulette.tumblr.com/): [Link](https://cuteciboulette.tumblr.com/post/643054357051588608/cuteciboulette-i-wanted-to-craft-something-but)
> 
> **Duo in lingerie** , by [duointherain](https://duointherain.tumblr.com/): [Link](https://duointherain.tumblr.com/post/643232329172713472/this-is-fan-art)
> 
> **Duo (from Chapter 20)** , by [bettertasting](https://bettertasting.tumblr.com/): [Link](https://bettertasting.tumblr.com/post/644255547740258304/i-reincarnated-as-a-minor-villainess-and-i)


End file.
